


Messages Unsent

by von_gelmini, witchway



Series: Messages [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Porn, Angst with a Happy Ending by the end of the series, College Student Peter Parker, First Time, Invasion of Privacy, Love Confessions, M/M, Miscommunication, Obsessed Tony Stark, Obsessive Behavior, Peter Parker Feels, Possessive Tony Stark, Secretly a Virgin, Surveillance, Texting, Tony Snuggles, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Big Dick, Tony Stark Lives, Tony Stark Still Has Arc Reactor, Virgin Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 10:35:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21618124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/von_gelmini/pseuds/von_gelmini, https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchway/pseuds/witchway
Summary: You can only leave kudos once, so why not leave a comment?Comments are easy - just cut and paste your favorite line!
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Series: Messages [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558027
Comments: 206
Kudos: 430





	1. Hey I Need To Talk To U

* * *

**_Hey I need to talk to u_ **

** _ur amazing really _ **

** _but i need more_ **

** _i cant just be your escort for when you are in town and not crimefighting_ **

Peter deleted the message. What was he doing? He couldn’t type a breakup letter and use the word ‘u’ for you. He tried again.

** _Hey we need to talk Tony_ **

** _i dont know how much longer i can do this_ **

** _i care about you. so much. but i cant live with only seeing you once a month so you can fuck my ass and buy me a _ **

This was stupid. And insane. He couldn’t break up with THE Tony Stark without proper punctuation. He deleted and started over. 

** _Dear Tony,_ **

** _You were my first time, and I’ll never forget that. But I can’t be yet another no-one-ever-touched-this-but-me thing in your trophy cabinet _ **

Wait. That didn’t make sense. 

** _Dear Tony,_ **

** _You were my first time, and I’ll never forget that. But I can’t be yet another precious thing that no one can touch in your trophy cabinet_ **

But he was. He WAS something precious in Tony’s Collection Of Things Precious. And Tony never stopped reminding him of that fact, and Peter loved it. Yes, it meant he saw the man only a few times a year AND he had to be on tap for sex when that happened AND he always got the distinct impression that all the presents he was bought afterwards had a For Services Rendered quality…

But there was one problem. He was in love with the man and there was nothing he could do about that.

Peter sighed heavily, deleted everything, and stored his phone in his bag. He suited up and left the rooftop to go out and patrol the city in the amazing suit his older lover had given him. Who was he kidding? He wasn’t breaking up with Tony Stark. Now, or never.

On the other side of the planet, Tony Stark watched in horror as Peter typed, then deleted, then typed, then deleted, then typed. His own phone was sitting right beside him and if it chimed with Peter’s final message, he wasn’t sure if his heart could take it. 

Tony Stark sat in a hotel in Sydney, Australia at seven am staring at the screen of his laptop. Which was the same thing he’d been doing since just after two am Sydney time which would’ve been just after noon back in New York. 

Peter had several special tones to alert Tony to various things. Ringtones for his phone, email notifications, social media alerts, SMS messages sent to a laptop instead of a phone. Tony could make any electronic device do whatever he wanted. If he couldn’t then FRIDAY could and she went with him everywhere via that simple-looking laptop which was anything but simple. 

All those notices were normal things that a person might have for their lover. What Tony had that wasn’t normal, what might be considered more than a little bit creepy, were special tones that alerted him to things no one should know about. Emails typed and deleted. Pictures taken but never posted. Texts typed and never sent. It was that last tone that interrupted him at two am. Peter was in New York, probably on his lunch break between classes, typing and deleting something. Repeatedly typing and deleting something. When he read the unsent texts, he froze in place staring at his computer screen. It kept him up without any sleep all night.

Peter was trying to decide how to break up with him. It was past dawn and he was still waiting for a breakup text. A not-deleted one. Because that’s the way millennials did things. It was quick and efficient and saved you from having to deal with the other person’s reaction. Bye, nice while it lasted, it’s not you it’s me, it’s you and not me. Whatever it was, it came by text. Only Peter hadn’t sent a message. Not yet. But clearly he was thinking about it. 

No matter what he wanted to do, it was seven am and he had an eight am meeting with Stark’s Australia division. He couldn’t get on his private jet and head home to… to what? To tell Peter that he’d been spying on him? To beg the kid not to break up with him? To grovel? Because if that’s what it would take, that’s what he would do. Losing Peter was not something he could think about. But losing Peter was the only thing he did think about, while some department head was droning on about profits and losses and money that didn’t mean a damn thing to Tony. Especially since, according to the deleted texts, his money was one of the issues for Peter.

He was sitting there ignoring everything except the precise words of the deleted texts. ** _ur amazing really but I need more_ ** More what? Not money, he objected to that in later texts. Not sex, he objected to that too. And not love. Not Tony’s love. He couldn’t help the _ way _ he loved. What he loved, he had to have. Completely. Possessively. Exclusively. And as usual, the way he loved was just another of his many personality failures. Because something about the way he loved led the boy to think of himself as an _ escort_. As an _ object_. As transitory.

Tony had been Peter’s first time, although they had never talked about that fact. And now that the pesky business of the boy’s first time was out of the way, taken care of by an older man with experience at taking care of first times, he was ready to move on to his second time and so on. He was asking to be let go. Letting go was something else Tony had trouble with. Even when he had evidence that the other person was done with him, he clung to things that weren’t there. “Sorry Tony but he is my friend.” “So was I.” Apparently not. “Tony. Who do you think locked you out?” Someone he trusted. “We’ll do that together too.” Only he wasn’t there, Tony was alone, with the kid he loved dying in his arms. The kid who didn’t love him, who needed ‘more’.

The meeting was done and Pepper sent him another message. **_While you’re there_** it began, giving him another meeting to go to that afternoon. Another person to meet with privately the morning after. He wouldn’t be able to get on the jet and head home until tomorrow afternoon. Both meetings were of the utmost importance to Stark. They were of absolutely no importance to him.

He was losing the only thing that mattered in his life. But his life didn’t matter. Never had. Stark came first. The Avengers came first. Iron Man came first. All of that left Peter thinking he came last. It was part of having a younger lover. Not being able to understand how Tony was continually pulled in twenty different directions, not one of those directions anywhere near the place he wanted to go. A college student lived his life for himself. Tony lived his life for other people. None of them were the person he wanted to live his life for. The person without whom his life wasn’t worth living. 

He hadn’t been able to communicate this to Peter sufficiently. But then when did they have time to communicate? Their relationship was ‘squeezed in’ between other things. Since they had such a short amount of time together, he wanted… not what the boy wanted. Sex, impressive nights out (because he wanted to impress Peter), and more sex. Because Peter was like a drug, he couldn’t get enough. Especially when that ‘enough’ had to be squeezed into maybe one or two, or if he was lucky three, days (mostly nights after work) a month. 

Could he blame the kid? Getting Tony Stark’s leftovers was hardly a good deal. It was something he tried to tell Peter before their relationship started. Something Peter assured him wouldn’t be a problem. Of course a kid couldn’t possibly perceive what a problem being with Tony Stark was. He was definitely not worth it. If he was a thoughtful lover, a thoughtful _ friend_, he would send Peter his own breakup text. Let the kid off the hook to get away from him and his mess.To find someone his own age. To find someone who didn’t have demands on him. Tying Peter down to a broken old man was cruel.

Aside from the question of _ should _ he fix things was _ could _he fix things? Their relationship wasn’t exactly a secret, but neither was it public knowledge. No one asked and they didn’t tell. Anyone who did ask, got told. It wasn’t usually taken well. But anyone who actually cared about Tony’s happiness (he couldn’t speak for the kid or his friends and family.) They accepted his and Peter’s odd looking couple-hood. Mostly. At least to his face. Beyond that, he had no idea. He no longer trusted what anyone told him to his face. There were lies and betrayal waiting behind it.

How would Pepper react to being told that not only was he hooked up with a college kid, but that he wanted to shirk his responsibilities to do more than fuck the kid a couple times a month? Of course when he was with her, she demanded all his time, and he gave it. But to say he wanted to do the same for Peter? Would that be tolerated? Would he be allowed to have a life with the kid? The Avengers — not that he gave much of a damn about most of them anymore — how would they react to being told: ‘unless it’s a world-ending event, leave me the fuck alone so I can build a relationship with my barely legal lover’?

He’d walked away from everything for Pepper and everyone let him. But he was dead certain that wouldn’t be permitted to it for Peter. So he didn’t ask. Which left Peter feeling like an _ escort_. That word burned. A precious thing in his trophy cabinet didn’t trouble him nearly as much. He knew that with enough time, he could prove to Peter that yes, he did treasure the boy, but it wasn’t from behind a glass case. Knowing that when they were together Peter felt like he was bought and paid for… Tony took a shaky deep breath. And he stopped himself. Absolutely stopped himself. Howard’s words echoed in his brain — Stark men were men of iron; they did not cry. Not even when cut through the heart. Everyone said Tony didn’t have a heart, anyway.

_ An escort. _

Tony might as well not have been there at either meeting, the one that afternoon or the one the next morning. He wasn’t there even though his body occupied a chair. He signed some papers, what about, he had no idea. Nor did he care. If they were bad papers, his lawyers could sort that out. If they were good papers, so what? Without Peter, dollar signs ticking away on counters… why was he even bothering? 

“You are a man with everything and nothing at all,” Yinsen told him. And he was right. He had a boy he loved, who thought of himself not as a lover, but as a bought and paid for object. Everything and nothing at all. Why did that matter so much now when it never mattered before? With anyone? Peter was scarcely not a child anymore. For him to effect Tony in such a deep way bordered on the obscene, or at least on the pathetic.

When he finally boarded his jet, he still wouldn’t be home for almost a day. It was a twenty one hour flight home. And he, like a coward, hadn’t contacted Peter since he left New York almost four days ago. He most certainly didn’t contact him after seeing the breakup texts he never received. It would be five days that he’d been gone by the time he landed, jet lagged, exhausted, and emotionally wrung out over something he couldn’t even say — that he constantly spied on the kid. 

It was fun. Being off somewhere around the world — mired in some mess for Iron Man, mired in some boredom for Stark, mired in sorting out some of his own bullshit — and checking in on what Peter was doing. Watching while he talked to his oldest friends, chatted with his new friends, worked on projects for this course or that. Those brought up pleasant memories of his MIT days working on projects with Rhodey. 

Tony never felt bad about spying on Peter during those times. Even when special secrets were shared. When Peter told Ned about their relationship and Ned had been such an amazingly supportive friend, Tony felt heartwarmed to know his boy had such a person in his life. When Peter asked MJ for sex advice it was adorable and amusing. When he asked her about lingerie, but then ultimately backed down because he wasn’t sure how Tony would react. When he tried on some of MJ’s lacy things, taking pictures but then deleting them, Tony couldn’t get those images out of his head for WEEKS. (And if he saved them to a hidden file on FRIDAY’s servers, the kid would never know.) 

Spying on Peter kept him feeling like he was part of his lover’s world. That they were together when they weren’t. Until Tony learned that they weren’t together when they were.

During the flight, he was glad Peter didn’t have similar spyware on his phone. He tried the direct method: 

** _Peter I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you_ **

No, that wasn’t right.

** _I haven’t been there for us_ **

That wasn’t right either. It was putting himself first again when he wasn’t first, this was about wanting to make Peter feel wanted. For something other than sex like an escort. For something other than trophy arm candy, which was an escort of a different kind.

** _Peter, I love you. I adore you. Without you my life is pretty much meaningless at this point. Like it always has been_ **

No, that was more about him. Pepper was right. _ If you say ‘I’ one more time _ she’d told him in his — no, her office. 

** _Peter, you deserve so much better than you have right now. You deserve so much better than the way I’ve been treating you_ **

That was a potential good start. If he could finish the text, send it off, so that when he got home things could get sorted out. 

** _If you’ll let me, If you still want me, I want to do better by you. There’s not much of me left, but what there is, is yours_ **

No, too much guilt. The kid isn’t responsible for how you’ve fucked up your life. He doesn’t need that dumped on him.

** _You are my treasure, but not in a trophy case_ **

Yikes. That was too on the nose. He’ll know you spy on him. That’s guaranteed to get you dumped _ fast_.

** _Our time together is precious. I want to have more of it. I want you to have the ‘more’ you’re looking for. If that ‘more’ is more of us, please let me try to give that to you_ **

That’s okay. It could be spying, it could just be picking up on things, being sensitive to whatever feelings have been floating around. Okay. Two lines. Needs more. What more, he didn’t know. Those two lines were a struggle.

** _Even though I’m not there much right now, please don’t ever doubt that I love you. Despite appearances, you are the most important _ ** <strike> ** _thing_ ** </strike> ** _ person in my life. I don’t know how open you are about us in your life, but if you’ll let me be, I will work hard to insist that all those people demanding my time and attention learn that they must come second to you _ ** <strike> ** _please don’t leave me_ ** </strike> ** **

He deleted the things struck through. Especially the last. There was such a thing as too much truth. He typed out the final version of his message as fast as he could and hit ‘send’ faster so he wouldn’t change his mind.

** _Peter, you deserve so much better than you have right now. You deserve so much better than the way I’ve been treating you _ **

** _Our time together is precious. I want to have more of it. I want you to have the ‘more’ you’re looking for. If that ‘more’ is more of us, please let me try to give that to you_ **

** _Even though I’m not there much right now, please don’t ever doubt that I love you. Despite appearances, you are the most important person in my life. I don’t know how open you are about us in your life, but if you’ll let me be, I will work hard to insist that all those people demanding my time and attention learn that they must come second to you _ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can only leave kudos once, so why not leave a comment?
> 
> Comments are easy - just cut and paste your favorite line!


	2. I hope you’ll still be there

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _  
**Spiderman isn’t who I need Peter Parker is who I need**  
_  
The question Peter asked about the Avengers… He let something out that he’d been holding in. Holding in since he felt Peter turn to dust, when he was left alone, without the rest of the boy band anywhere near. Holding in since he almost died after getting Peter back and they were willing to let him die. He’d lost the boy too many times because of the Avengers. The words typed contained none of the heat of the thought that typed them.  
__  
**The Avengers can kiss my ass**  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This WIP is completely finished. It's over 29k long, so we're going to be posting two chapters per week. Sundays and Thursdays. So in six weeks, you'll have it all.
> 
> The tags listed are for the entire story, not just this chapter.

Peter’s first text read: 

**What’s wrong?**

Second: 

**I’m checking the news feed but there’s nothing. Is Spider-Man needed?**

Third:

**Oh is this a regular business thing bad, or Avenger bad?**

Fourth:

**Oh it must already be over thats why ur texting me sorry. Are you ok? Is it downlow or should I keep checking the news? **

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tony was stretched out on the bed in the little room at the rear of the jet. Twenty one hours was a long time and while he doubted he’d sleep, he could at least rest. He’d just laid down when his phone rang with Peter’s text alert. An actual text, not a deleted one. 

It was just exhaustion that caused his hands to shake. He’d already had one sleepless night and was heading into a second. Exhaustion that was making him reluctant to fish his phone out of his pocket. Exhaustion that made his eyes so blurry that he had to pause to blink and focus before he could read.

He finally read the texts and the relief that flooded through his body was palpable. Some mixture of endorphins and whatever. He wasn’t a biologist. But it was something physical. Caused by exhaustion, which he blamed again.

** _There’s nothing wrong everything’s fine I’m somewhere over the Pacific Ocean heading home_ **

God, I hope I’m heading home to you. That you won’t stay away because you feel like I’m only demanding escort services from you. 

Tony wasn’t a man accustomed to feeling fear. Staring down a terrorist’s gun didn’t make him afraid. Lying there with his heart literally stolen from his body, he hadn’t been afraid. Falling into the ocean being crushed by fragments of his home hadn’t terrified him. Being left for dead in the cold of Siberia with his heart shattered (but at least left in him), didn’t scare him like this. Those were all things his brain could fix. He had no doubt that those problems could be solved.

But what if his brain couldn’t fix this? What if nothing could fix this? Fear. When he  _ had  _ known fear, falling from a hole punched in the sky, it wasn’t as bad as this. He truly was a pathetic desperate old man, needing this beautiful young boy the way he did.

** _Spiderman isn’t who I need Peter Parker is who I need_ **

The question Peter asked about the Avengers… He let something out that he’d been holding in. Holding in since he felt Peter turn to dust, when he was left alone, without the rest of the boy band anywhere near. Holding in since he almost died after getting Peter back and they were willing to let him die. He’d lost the boy too many times because of the Avengers. The words typed contained none of the heat of the thought that typed them.

** _The Avengers can kiss my ass_ **

Peter asked if Tony was okay. It was nothing. Certainly nothing more than a friend would ask. But Tony was desperate for any hopeful sign that he wouldn’t wake up to one of those texts being sent instead of deleted.

He waited a good minute at least before sending the next message. Exhaustion, he blamed yet again. Why else would a man who never revealed anything about himself be letting too many truths out in one afternoon.

** _I’m not okay_ **

He was dead tired and his brain to fingers filter was slipping away. He rested his head on the pillow, holding the phone above him, while his thumb flew across its transparent keypad. He’d been hitting send often since he started replying to Peter. Almost every sentence as soon as he typed it. Hitting send meant he didn’t have time to think about what he was sending. It was gone and he couldn’t take it back. Gone off to the aether. Just gone. Maybe gone to Peter. But he didn’t have time to think about that because he just kept hitting send.

** _I’m not okay with losing you Peter. I’ve been a shit lover I know that saying sorry isn’t enough_ **

** _Nothing is on the downlow I don’t want to keep you locked away in a glass case with no one else knowing how much I treasure you _ **

** _The only news you should be checking for is if I carry through on my stupid idea of putting “Tony Stark is in love with Peter Parker” on every billboard in Times Square_ **

** _I want to be there more than once a month when I can fuck your ass _ **

** _I want to be more than just your first time_ **

** _I want to be your last time _ **

** _I know it’s wrong, there’s something wrong in me _ **

** _Here I am talking about me again. Sorry_ **

** _I’ll be home in about 19 hours_ **

It took him a long, long time before he sent the last message. He was almost asleep when he typed it. And hit send.

** _I hope you’ll still be there_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've come this far, why not leave a comment?
> 
> Witchway's Starker blog on tumblr is [thestarkerisobvious](https://thestarkerisobvious.tumblr.com/).  
Von's Starker blog on tumblr is [starkerstories](https://starkerstories.tumblr.com/).  
Come on by and visit us.


	3. Being a Good Boyfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter shook his head hard and closed his eyes tight and tried to think of everything he knew about Tony’s last trip, and everything that Tony would be doing, and everything that Tony had already told him the few times they had spoken —
> 
> He opened his eyes wide  
_  
**Wait when was the last time you slept?**  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This WIP is completely finished. It's over 29k long, so we're going to be posting two chapters per week. Sundays and Thursdays. So in six weeks, you'll have it all.
> 
> The tags listed are for the entire story, not just this chapter.
> 
> *****  
Tony has his arc reactor back because reasons. Tony survived Endgame because reasons. What reasons you want to give, are the right ones.

** _Youre not making any sense_ **

Peter sat on the rooftop, typing as gently as he could, as if touching the buttons tenderly could be expressed over the phone. The sentence about the Avengers troubled him in more ways than he could name. (The line about billboards in Time Square, well, that was just ridiculous BUT it was the kind of ridiculous that made his heart skip a beat.)

But Tony was on a plane over the Pacific Ocean and going to him was not an option, so there was that. Peter read the last four lines again, then sent

** _But youre safe on a plane so I will wait until you arrive to explain_ **

He read the last seven lines again, read them out loud, then typed carefully

** _I dont think you are a shit lover. You are an amazing lover. Gentle and _ **

Peter growled in frustration, startling several pigeons. He wasn’t good at this. Why couldn’t words be like math or tech, where you could just describe the thing you were looking at and everyone would know what you were talking about?

But he couldn’t think of a better word to describe Tony in bed. In addition to being wildly experienced the man could be remarkably gentle, even after the first night was over. And that first night — oh God that first night — Tony had actually _ asked permission _ to top him, had asked if that’s what he had wanted. And not only had Tony been incredibly gentle that _ first _ night, he had actually _ apologized _ the next day for not being gentle _ enough_. Tony took his lovemaking technique very seriously, Peter discovered, and it showed.

And he had been so _expressive_, telling Peter so many tender things the very first time they made love. Unlike Peter. Peter had walked into Stark Tower that evening _ armed _with a dozen things to say, mainly to argue his point, that the two of them should be together. But in Tony’s arms all his well thought out words seem to dry up. Whenever he had opened his mouth that night, desperate to express himself, the only thing that came out were three words. Usually those three words were “Oh god Tony!” (But occasionally it was “Oh fuck Tony!”) But Tony had expressed so many sweet and tender things to him, he was determined to return in kind. So he opened his mouth, intending to force himself to say something other than those three words.

All he wound up saying was “I love you.” (Which wasn’t even more than three words.)

But Tony didn’t mind, oh no, Tony seemed very happy with those three words. And the _ things _ Tony said… Peter didn’t remember exactly what the words _ were _ but he certainly remembered what they _ meant_. That they were going to be together, that they belonged to each other. 

He remembered some of those things word-for-word. “I want the _ everything _ of you” Tony had said that first night. “I need _ all _of you.” Sweet words that Peter had repeated to himself over and over for weeks after.

Peter had done a little bit better at expressing himself since then, at least, he hoped he had.

Expressive, _ that _was a good word.

** _Gentle and expressive. _ **

He hit send. 

There was something else too, what was the word for it? The word for knowing what another person needed, without asking?

Peter had been relatively calm that night when Tony finally took him to bed. What he had not expected was how much that changed when Tony’s body wasn’t touching his. And before he even got up the nerve to explain that, Tony was back in his arms and, even better, pretending like it had been his idea in the first place. 

And when Peter _ had _to let him go, so that Tony could use the lube? Tony had not only waited patiently when Peter asked for more kissing, he had allowed the kissing to go on forever.

“Intuitive!” Peter said out loud, startling more pigeon, and typed it quickly.

** _And intuitive._ **

** _Yes obviously I would like to see you more than once and month and yes obviously I would like to talk to you OUTSIDE of bed but i dont think there is anything wrong in you_ **

But what if there was? Tony was speaking like a man who had just survived a disaster, but… what if he was a man who had done something very bad? Peter tried to shove the thought away — this was Tony. Tony who had said “I want the _ everything _ of you.” Tony who had said “I need _ all _of you.” Surely Tony wouldn’t cheat on him.

Peter shook his head hard and closed his eyes tight and _ tried _to think of everything he knew about Tony’s last trip, and everything that Tony would be doing, and everything that Tony had already told him the few times they had spoken — 

He opened his eyes wide

** _Wait when was the last time you slept?_ **

Suddenly a light went off in Peter’s head and he relaxed completely. Of course. No wonder Tony Stark was talking crazy (_ “when I can fuck your ass???” Tony had never put those three words together without multiple adjectives. “When I can lovingly fuck that sweet, tight succulent ass” maybe, but never such a simple, crude phrase like ‘fuck your ass.’) _He had seen these manic phases before, and had heard of worse. The man just hadn't slept. That’s why he was sounding so paranoid, sounding like a man apologizing after an argument that never happened. That’s why he was banging on about conversations that never occurred — the last thing Peter had talked to Tony about was how well he was doing in Differential Equations. 

** _Tony you are a moron get some sleep and I’ll talk to you when youre coherent _ **

Feeling satisfied that he was being a Good Boyfriend, Peter tossed his phone into his bag and continued to make his way home. 

From there he got his homework done and went patrolling — but mentally, when he wasn’t redoing his Differential Equations homework in his head he was explaining patiently to his older lover how he could identify when the man hadn’t slept. “Fuck your ass” indeed.

Peter was mid-swing from a thread when a thought struck him so hard he very nearly struck a wall.

In fact he clipped the corner of One Vanderbilt which sent him spiraling out of control and skidding across a lower rooftop. There he lay on his back and stared, bug-eyed, up at the sky.

“Fuck your ass” was NOT Tony’s phrase.

It was his.

It wasn’t his REAL phrase, of course, but it was part of the bitter, petty things he had spit out in his head or under his breath when he was frustrated with Tony or Tony’s schedule or his own inability to explain to Tony what he needed. He had never said those words **out loud**, of course, gosh no, they had only and always been words in his head. Well, sometimes out loud on the tops of roofs where no one could hear him…sometimes he SHOUTED them from rooftops but…

Well, there WAS that ONE time he started to text the same words to Tony but of course ** _he had deleted it._ ** Because breaking up with Tony wasn’t an option. 

But…

“No, nononono no,” Peter muttered to himself as he reached for his phone. Right there, sitting on his ass on the rooftop Peter thumbed through the phone and reread Tony’s post, combing through the words over and over.

** _I want to be more than just your first time_ **

That made no sense — Peter had NEVER admitted that to Tony, had flat-out lied about it in fact. Well… not _ lied_. He said he had been with other boys, and he had. And he said he had been penetrated before, and he had. (Tony never asked if it had been with real life _ people_.)

And he had _ intended _ on telling Tony the truth, had even _ tried _to explain it to him in bed before they began. (But he chickened out.)

Peter couldn’t really say why he kept hedging the question (especially after it had become irrelevant.) Even the next day when Tony asked for a ‘second chance’ for his ‘first time’ Peter had rolled his eyes and insisted it was no such thing. Why? Pride, maybe. And even if Peter _ had _been topped by the boys he had been with, not a single dude he knew, let alone any of his toys, would have prepared him for Tony’s size. Peter had toys of various length, but Tony was just ridiculous. 

Tony had teased him gently about it for the next few weeks, but on those occasions Peter just teased him back. After all, he had been legal for _ years _before Tony made his move, so if Tony didn’t get there first, who’s fault was that? Peter had intended on telling Tony the truth someday. Maybe on their anniversary, or on their wedding day. He wanted to save it for some romantic moment.

Or in his breakup letter.

Peter shook his head hard. Yes, he had entertained cruel, ugly fantasies about saying that in a breakup letter, but that had been in his HEAD dammit, and _ how the hell would Tony know that_?

** _I want to be there more than once a month when I can fuck your ass _ **

THAT had been in his head, too, “once a month.” Crude and cruel words. And wrong because Tony made sure to see him every three weeks or so whenever he could. It had only been recently that they had gone six weeks without seeing each other...

** _I don’t want to keep you locked away in a glass case with no one else knowing how much I treasure you _ **

Now this was wrong — this was very very very wrong. 

Yes, Peter had started to text something like this to Tony, something like this, something that he had deleted. Something about a glass case where Tony kept his treasures… that no one else had touched. DID he say ‘glass case?” He couldn’t remember. But right now looking at the words ‘glass case’ he felt his mouth go bone dry and felt his heart begin to pound.

Tony couldn’t see inside his head, that made no sense. Yes, Tony had once said he wanted Peter’s dreams too, wanted _ everything _of Peter’s, but that was just a romantic thing a man said to his lover. It wasn’t really possible.

Tony couldn’t see into his head. 

Couldn’t see the hateful things he had muttered to himself, the angry words he had never even gotten around to saying to anyone, except for that one time he had told himself he was really going to text them to Tony…

He stood up and looked out over the New York skyline.

He felt very, very cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've come this far, why not leave a comment?
> 
> Witchway's Starker blog on tumblr is [thestarkerisobvious](https://thestarkerisobvious.tumblr.com/).  
Von's Starker blog on tumblr is [starkerstories](https://starkerstories.tumblr.com/).  
Come on by and visit us.


	4. Saying "Yes"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were so many wonderful things about that night, it felt like a betrayal to comb over those memories now looking for something negative. Tony had treated him like fine china that night. Like something precious.
> 
> Like a virgin.
> 
> Which, technically, he had been.
> 
> __________________________________
> 
> Hi guys. There’s an extra post this week! 
> 
> Saturday (Dec 8) has this, the start of our interlude/flashback. Sunday (Dec 9) has the LONG remaining part of the interlude/flashback. Then -- dun dun DUN -- we get back to the drama full force on Thursday (Dec 12)
> 
> Hope you enjoy this little flashback to Tony and Peter’s first time. It does establish a bit of why the plot is the way it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This WIP is completely finished. It's over 29k long, so we're going to be posting two chapters per week. Sundays and Thursdays. So in six weeks, you'll have it all.
> 
> The tags listed are for the entire story, not just this chapter.
> 
> *****  
Tony has his arc reactor back because reasons. Tony survived Endgame because reasons. What reasons you want to give, are the right ones.

He didn’t websling home.

He walked.

Which is to say, he walked across rooftops, lept to the next rooftop, and walked across that. He walked with his eyes wide and his mouth dry, his whole body vibrating, trying to unthink what he had just thought.

He tried to distract himself by thinking about things, by thinking about anything. Particle Physics. Complex Variables. Superfriends episodes. Anything.

But his mind kept going back to their very first night, and the things Tony had said to him. “I want the _ everything _ of you,” he had said. “I need _ all _of you.” “I want your dreams too,” he had said (well, something like that. Peter had said “I think I must be dreaming,” and Tony had kissed him and said “I want those too.”)

There were so many wonderful things about that night, it felt like a betrayal to comb over those memories now looking for something negative. Tony had treated him like fine china that night. Like something precious. 

Like a virgin.

Which, technically, he had been.

He had ridden the elevator up to the penthouse of Stark Tower that night armed with a dozen reasons why they should be together, but in the end he really hadn’t argued any of them.

Mostly, he had just spent a lot of time saying 'yes'.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“This isn’t a bad idea, but it isn’t exactly a _ good _ idea, kid.” Tony was just drunk enough to consider it instead of dismissing it out of hand. For one thing, he’d been thinking about it, and pretty obviously Peter had been thinking about it too. For another… he was really trying hard to think of a reason why they _ shouldn’t_. He knew those reasons existed. Had to exist. This was clearly a bad idea. _ He _was a bad idea. “It’s more a question of what you want out of this. A good time can be had, I’m not denying that. But is it a one-time good thing you’re looking for or a repeated-time good thing or… I’m clearly not making sense, but you get my drift, right?”

“Repeated-time good thing? Oh yes Tony, you are making _ lots _of sense.”

Peter had been drinking just to keep Tony drinking, because Peter had already made a decision. Peter wanted this. Had put thought into this. Had put _ effort _ into this. Had _ studied _for this. And the moment he leaned in closer, and Tony did not pull away, he made his move.

“That’s _ exactly _what I want,” he murmured, moving in to rest his forehead against Tony’s forehead. “Repeated. Lots and lots of times.”

Tony smiled. Peter was always cute. Peter drunk was absolutely fuckin’ adorable. Irresistibly adorable. Maybe resistible to someone other than Tony, but that was a hypothetical. What wasn’t hypothetical was the young man practically crawling into his lap. Offering exactly everything (well almost everything) Tony had ever dreamed of. “Repeated times.” He grinned. “Many, many repeated times. Gotta repeat the experiment to make sure the results are the same each time, right?” He went ahead and pulled Peter all the way into his lap. “So… what’s the hypothesis? What will happen if Tony kisses me like this?” 

He put his arms around Peter and settled his hand at the back of his neck, pulling him down to a kiss. Light at first, gauging his reaction. Then deeper. He’d like to say it was in response to Peter’s reaction, but really it was in response to his own. Any ideas about why _ this _ was a bad idea disappeared with the touch of Peter’s lips to his. God he’d thought about this entirely too much. Wondered what it would be like. Wondered what Peter would be like. He’d imagined responsive, but he was totally unprepared for _ how _responsive the kid was. 

He’d read the term ‘blossomed under the kiss’ before in cheesy novels (that he’d never admit to reading.) But he had never experienced what that might mean. Nobody he’d kissed before did much of anything but kiss back. Usually badly. He doubted that Peter realized he’d done it, but there was this tiny little moan. A shudder running down his spine that Tony just had to feel. He reached his hands up underneath Peter’s shirt and caressed his spine. The shudder that ran down it ran back up. 

“Bad idea? Or is this the direction you saw things going in?”

“Good idea… all your ideas are good ideas…” Peter murmured against Tony’s mouth.

Then he realized Tony was asking permission to get his hands under his shirt and responded by sitting up and peeling it off, tossing it aside.

“Direction?” He turned his head to look toward the hallway, then turned back and gave Tony (what he hoped were his) best seductive eyes. “I was hoping this was going in the direction of the bedroom.”

It was risky, he knew. Peter wasn’t exactly _ as _ experienced as he wanted to be at this moment (and he had been planning for this moment, oh yes, been planning on it for a _ long _time) but if he let Tony get away with not taking him bed? He feared Tony might change his mind if given too much time. He had waited too long to get here. He wasn’t taking any chances. 

“That’s certainly a direction,” Tony said with a low chuckle. He put his hands underneath Peter’s ass and stood, carrying him. “Put your legs around my waist. That’ll be easier. Christ you have long legs for being shorter than me.” He grinned. “Gorgeous long legs. That look amazing in those jeans when you bend over the lab table. Do you have any idea how crazy you make me?” He headed for the hall. Sure, an armful of Peter was awkward, but damn it felt wonderful. “Bedroom… so far away. Sure I couldn’t interest you in a spot of floor?”

“Nope.”

“The sofa?”

“Nope.” 

“Halfway there.”

Peter giggled. “Then you better keep going.” 

“Bed. You lying in my bed… that’s an image.” He might’ve unceremoniously dropped Peter onto it. But he looked even better than he did in all those fantasies Tony had. “You look like you belong there. Repeatedly. Very repeatedly. Like I might not ever let you out of my bed. Have FRIDAY send you all your lessons so you stay put right here. That’s why, one of probably many reasons why, this is a bad idea.” He closed his eyes, not wanting to see Peter in his bed. He opened them again because all he wanted was to see was Peter in his bed. 

Peter reached out with one hand and gently pulled him down. “I love this idea. I love _ all _these ideas.”

Peter pulled Tony on top of him, positioning him on top, hoping he would stay. He had imagined this so many times, but he never realized just how _ calm _ he would feel when it finally happened. All his experiences so far had been with boys his age and, no matter how informative, they had _ all _ been characterized with nerves, either Peter’s or his partner’s or both. He wasn’t nervous now. He was with _ Tony. _ And he and Tony had always made an excellent team.

Tony hadn’t been sure what sort of a partner Peter would be. He’d imagined it many different ways. Each enjoyable. But being actively encouraged? Having Peter reach up and bring him closer? Feeling his hands on his back? That was better than any fantasy. He balanced on his knees and leaned over Peter. He hadn’t ever let his fantasy wander to what he wanted to do now. Why he hadn’t… maybe because something so simple was impossible. He kissed Peter. Soft and slow. His tongue teasing the edges of the boy’s lips. Breathing softly across them. Gently seeking entry. And it wasn’t the kid who moaned when it was granted.

He stood between Peter’s legs and pulled his shirt over his head. 

“Oh god Tony…” Peter sighed, breathless. Face to face with the arc reactor was something he had dreamed of for as long as he could remember. He reached out, but didn’t touch.

“Tony, it’s beautiful.” 

Tony tried to hide how startled he was. The last person he was with thought it was far less than beautiful. It was something she avoided looking at directly, demanded remained covered up at all times, and certainly never reached out for, wanting to touch. He bent down a little and took Peter’s wrist in his hand. He brought the kid’s hand to his chest, encouraging his fingers to open. And then… he pressed his palm directly against the arc reactor. He hesitated. “It’s…” He hesitated again. It was one thing to be open and honest about the feelings he had for Peter. It was another to be open and honest about his feelings about _ this. _ “It’s a part of me.” 

“Is it… sensitive?”

Tony was taken aback. It was a _ thing. _ A machine, as Pepper kept reminding him. “Not the arc itself. There’s no sensation there. But…” Tony hesitated. He felt like the virgin now. Revealing that there was sensation near it… “Yes. Not the arc reactor itself.” He repeated himself, unable to believe that anyone would ask him such a question as Peter just had. “It’s just a machine. The battery I run on, as it’s been called. But…” He hesitated again and bit his lip. “Around it?” He nodded. 

He couldn’t quite say it out loud. He’d touched the area of course. After the first shower he took after he put the one he’d made at home instead of in a cave, he was surprised to find out that the scar tissue had sensation in it. And the margins between flesh and scar? Even more. But telling Peter about that made him feel like some pubescent girl telling someone else that when she touched herself ‘down there’ it felt good. He couldn’t do it.

“It’s incredible. Sorry… sorry if I’m freaking out a little bit here. Tony…” he murmured in amazement, trying not to lick his lips. He closed his eyes hard, rubbed his other hand across his face and _ tried _ to pull himself together. Geeking out over the tech was _ probably _going to annoy the older man whom had actually been in the process of undressing. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stop you.”

“Baby…” Tony couldn’t let go of Peter’s wrist. Not just yet. There were so many things he felt about Peter’s hand being right where it was, but the feelings weren’t coalescing into words. There was something easier to think about. More present to think about He was wearing entirely too many clothes.

“I’ve wanted to be here for so long, Tony.”

“I’ve wanted you here for…” He smiled. “Probably not as long, kid, but long enough. Too long.” He finally let go of Peter’s wrist and stood upright again. He unbuttoned his jeans but left them there, as he reached for Peter’s. He wanted to see. He wanted to look. Repeated times were mentioned, but he had to own _ this _ time. Commit it to memory. He undid Peter’s jeans and pulled them off. “Fuckin’ long beautiful legs,” he muttered, not quite realizing he’d done so aloud. His own pants were left on the floor as he took Peter’s ankles in his hands and turned him on the bed to lie in the middle of it. He wanted to lie on top of him again, but he had to look first. He couldn’t get enough of just _ looking _ at Peter. “God, fuckin’ all of you is beautiful.”

Peter reveled in the praise — it was as lovely as Tony’s casual compliments in the lab, but instead of making his face warm it was making his whole body weak. 

Still, he felt safer when Tony was closer, so he pulled him back into position once again. “You’re too far away,” he whispered. 

“You’re right,” Tony said, settling on top of Peter, who gasped as their chests touched. _ He isn’t tightening his expression, trying to hide how uncomfortable the touch of it feels. _ Before he spoke, he blinked slowly, taking in what that meant. Putting it away for now in ‘nice things to look at later’. Because there was a very nice thing _ right now_. Peter was in his bed. “Good as you look, you feel so much better. I kinda might’ve thought about this entirely too much. You in my bed. You underneath me. What your skin would feel like. What your lips would taste like.” He kissed Peter again, letting their whole bodies touch, wrapping his arms underneath Peter’s shoulders, bringing him closer. Not kissing as gently as he’d hoped he would, but he _ wanted. _ He tried to hold back how much he wanted. Because he knew that whenever he _ wanted_, he wanted too much. But Peter, god, he wanted him more than he could hide.

Tony knelt back between Peter’s knees. He trailed kisses along the boy’s chest as he did. When he got to Peter’s underwear, he hooked his thumbs in the waistband and pulled them down. Moving across the boy’s leg, he managed to get them all the way off. “Baby, that’s as beautiful as the rest of you,” he smiled and bent over, putting a teasing kiss on the head of Peter’s cock. He moved between Peter’s legs again and pushed his own underwear out of the way. “I want to feel all of you against me.” He stretched out over Peter, kissing his shoulder. “You taste like sunshine.” He kissed his mouth again. “Sweetness and sunshine.” He smiled and with both hands brushed Peter’s hair back from his face. “I want you so much. But I gotta ask… Repeatedly, obviously. But _ what _ repeatedly. Just to make sure we’re on the same page, because… damn Pete, I wanna be inside you so bad. But I don’t know if that’s what you want or if you’re ready…”

“Oh GOD yes Tony, ** _please _ **yes…” Peter interrupted, trying his best to kiss and talk at the same time. Finally he gave up and settled for kissing.

“Wait…” he said (as best he could with a mouth full of Tony’s tongue.) He pulled away. “You’re asking if…”

He put both hands on Tony’s face and pulled him away enough to look at (but he wasn’t going to let that man climb off his body, not one more time, oh no. They were staying just like this. He felt _ safe _just like this.)

“Okay… same page… okay… yes I want you to do this repeatedly. As in having sex a lot of times. As in being your boyfriend. I _ hope _ that’s what you meant. And if you’re asking me if I’m ready for you to be inside me oh _ Jesus Christ _ yes… oh… sorry… that was a Language word…” 

Tony laughed. “I don’t know who you think you’re in bed with, but I assure you, it’s not Cap. Language is SO not a problem. Which you’d know if you watched half the tapes I think you have.”

“Cap was an asshole and he wasn't even good looking. Plus he was head over heels in love with Barnes who he totally ghosted for some girl. I know exactly who I am in bed with…” He kissed Tony gently on the mouth. 

“I am in bed with…” He let his tongue tease along the line of Tony’s beard. “THE…” he brushed his lips against it and teased it with his teeth. “Tony Stark.” He ran his tongue down the stubble on the man’s throat. This had been a dream of his for a long time and now, oh now, he could indulge in any fantasy he had ever entertained about this man’s facial hair and his mouth. 

“Wow. Not sure if I can live up to the definite article there, but yeah Peter. You’re in bed with me. And yeah, repeatedly and boyfriend… god that’s a ridiculous term for someone in his fifties… but yeah. I wasn’t planning on letting you out of my bed… okay maybe out of my bed… for a little while… maybe… but certainly not out of my life.” He kept stopping to kiss Peter. Getting out a coherent sentence was hard work when Peter was warm and delicious and willing underneath him. Kissing the side of his face. Feeling his soft skin underneath his lips. Coherent sentence? Coherent thought was on the verge of leaving.

“We’ll have to get up to eat. Sometimes. Unless you have any robots that deliver food?”

“They deliver _ everything_.” Tony grinned. “But there’s a whole lab downstairs and eventually, fucking leads to ideas leads to work leads to more fucking… you get the picture. So while I might be willing to let you out of my bed… much further and… we’ll have to see.”

Peter grinned and blushed and ducked his head. Was this even real? He was in the arms of one Tony Stark (**_and_ ** chest-to-chest with the arc reactor) and the man was promising him everything he ever wanted. But all he could say was “Okay,” and reach up for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've come this far, why not leave a comment?
> 
> Witchway's Starker blog on tumblr is [thestarkerisobvious](https://thestarkerisobvious.tumblr.com/).  
Von's Starker blog on tumblr is [starkerstories](https://starkerstories.tumblr.com/).  
Come on by and visit us.


	5. The everything of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “OH GOD Tony I’ve been… like that has been my Birthday Candle wish since, well, nevermind for how long. Oh god,” He kissed the man hard. “I’m so glad you’re a dirty old man,” he said between kisses. “So damn glad.”  
________________________________________________
> 
> Here’s our regular Sunday post, in addition to the bonus one from yesterday. It’s a LONG one, but it finishes off the ‘flashback’ scene about Tony and Peter’s first time. We brought all the feels… and smut, today. If you subscribe to Messages Unsent as well as the Messages series you'll get notifications when something new is posted. Thanks for keeping up with the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This WIP is completely finished. It's over 29k long, so we're going to be posting two chapters per week. Sundays and Thursdays. So in six weeks, you'll have it all.
> 
> The tags listed are for the entire story, not just this chapter.
> 
> *****  
Tony has his arc reactor back because reasons. Tony survived Endgame because reasons. What reasons you want to give, are the right ones.

Tony leaned on one elbow, his hand sliding under Peter’s neck. His other hand worked its way between them and circled around their erections, bringing them together. He wasn’t willing to quit kissing the boy though. That had to continue no matter what else happened. And ‘what else’ was definitely going to happen. Eventually. When he got tired of this. This was entirely perfect. Feeling Peter in his hand pressed against himself. Touching together. He reached out and found Peter’s hand and brought it to join his between them. He wanted to know what Peter’s hand felt like. But when Peter’s hand wrapped around his shaft the younger man’s head suddenly jerked to one side. There was a sharp intake of breath. But all he said was… 

“Uh… wow.”

“Flattering. But… have you ever? I mean, either way… it’s not gonna hurt, okay? But is this your first time?”

“Nonono. No. Not even. It’s just you’re… I mean _ damn _Tony.”

“You are one hell of an ego boost, kid,” Tony said smiling. He knew he was big, but always went with modesty over ego. “Baby, you’re kind of an inspiration.” He slid up along Peter’s body and reached under the pillow for a bottle that was always handy. Because, okay, maybe he was just a little too addicted to jerking off to this particular fantasy. Which had nothing on the reality. “You’re gonna have to let go a little though if we’re gonna do anything more.” That was a hard thing to ask for. It felt too damn good having Peter holding on to him as hard as he was doing.

“Um… so… ok…” Peter said quietly, _ not _letting go, not letting go at all. He knew he was going to have to, and soon, and he was steeling himself for that moment. 

“So… I _ have _ done this with other boys… I mean I topped them sometimes but it wasn’t very nice it was… weird. I worried a lot about… hurting them, you know? Being… me. I’m not worried about _ being hurt_, nothing hurts me. Other than collapsing buildings, you know. You know that. I’m just saying that nothing’s been… your size. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Peter, there’s more than one way of being hurt. One kind doesn’t cancel out the other. And I don’t want to hurt you in any way. You’ve topped before, but bottoming? This is something you want? Something you’ve done before? Because while I’m not opposed to the other, I do have to admit that I’ve… okay so I’m a dirty old man who’s been daydreaming of what it would be like to fuck you.”

“OH GOD Tony I’ve been… like that has been my Birthday Candle wish since, well, nevermind for how long. Oh god,” He kissed the man hard. “I’m so glad you’re a dirty old man,” he said between kisses. “So _ damn _glad.

“What I was trying to say,” he said after finally ending the kiss, “Is that no, I don’t want to top anyone ever again, no thanks, not working for me, I want you, _yes_ I’ve done it before _obviously_, and you’re fucking huge and I have no idea what ‘one way of being hurt’ even means I only know I’ve been hit by an entire train once so don’t worry about that. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

“Okay baby. I get it.” Tony did. Like most kids Peter’s age, talk was greater than experience. And his heart felt for someone innocent enough not to know the many, _ many _ ways someone could be hurt. He never would, if Tony could help it. "We can make it work, if you trust me. So… the whole letting go thing?” he said, smiling. “Gonna happen any time soon?”

“I will. Just… kiss me one more time.”

“Just one more?” He kissed Peter once lightly, once deeper, and finally so passionately that he left the boy gasping. 

“Okay, now stay still,” Peter said when he had caught his breath. He took Tony’s face in both hands and kissed him very gently, slipping his tongue, shyly, to touch Tony’s lips. When there was no protest he did it again, pushing in between, then retreating. When Tony groaned he grew bolder, pressing inside and touching behind teeth. 

That was the extent of his bravery, so he stopped. He pulled his mouth away and smiled. 

It took Tony a while to recover. Being kissed by Peter… as opposed to doing the kissing… which he _ very _ much enjoyed, don’t get him wrong… but whenever Peter was the one to do the kissing? Tony kinda fell apart. He knew it showed. And he didn’t care.

Tony noticed the little self-satisfied smile on Peter’s face when he realized that he’d taken Tony’s breath away. "Smug looks good on you." He knelt back between the boy’s legs. “You drive me crazy. I like that you know it.” He put his hands on Peter’s hips and slid him down on the bed, bringing him closer. Tony reached for one of Peter’s ankles and raised it to his shoulder. 

Peter’s breath caught and he closed his eyes. Probably too tightly. Tony was very far away now (but dammit, that’s _ how this was done_, so he couldn’t exactly _ complain_.) He kept his eyes closed and fantasized, just like he did when he was alone in his dorm room. He fantasized that Tony was still on top, still holding him close, still keeping him safe. This was better than those old fantasies, because Tony _ would _ be on top of him soon. He breathed in, caught Tony’s scent. Tony was still close by. Tony was still keeping him safe. (After all, nothing _ could _hurt him! That much had been true!)

Tony slicked his fingers and watched as Peter closed his eyes. Watched his expression change. He moved Peter’s leg down and stretched back out over him. Peter’s arms immediately went around him with a moan. He kept his hand between the boy’s legs. He rolled onto his side, laying next to him. His fingers worked their way in the crack of his ass as he kissed Peter’s shoulder.

“Hey,” he said smiling. “You looked like you missed me.” He gently circled his finger around Peter’s opening. Just teasing around it as he kissed the boy’s skin wherever he could reach. “I missed the touch of you.” He rolled to where he was half laying on top of Peter but his hand still moved freely. He could kiss him like this. “Leg on the shoulder thing wasn’t working for you. How about we try your leg over my hip. I can reach you that way and I can still touch you.”

“I guess I should tell you…” Peter turned his head and winced. Then he stopped talking. When he tried again he covered his face with one hand. He sighed hard, then finally spoke. “I’m just worried a lot about… hurting you. I… break things sometimes, well you know. You _ know _how many times I’ve banged my head against the dorm room wall and dented it. I’m just… worried is all.”

“Baby, I might not be spidey-strong, but I don’t break that easily. You won’t hurt anything or anyone you don’t want to. That wall? Meant nothing to you. Me? I hope I mean something more than a wall. You can let yourself go. You’re not going to hurt me. I trust you.” He kept any awkward answers, or having to acknowledge the last thing he said, away with another kiss. He kept the kisses following one after another as he moved his finger closer, waiting to feel Peter relax.

Peter combed both hands into his hair and moaned into the kiss.

Peter’s moan was met with one of Tony’s when he felt the boy’s hands in his hair. His finger slid into him. He felt a slight tension but it didn’t last long. He had his suspicions about Peter’s experience, where other _ people _were concerned at least, but he expected that by his age the boy would’ve been familiar with toys and used to some degree of penetration. He pressed his finger around the boy’s rim, stretching him, but not fucking him with it. Spreading him wider so that when he pressed the tip of his second finger alongside the first, he could feel him adjust. Peter was tight and he didn’t rush things. He teased the boy with his second finger, kissing him, waiting to feel him want more.

“OhfuckTony” Peter whispered between kisses. He could feel the beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. Being fingered by Tony felt a million times better than anything he had ever done to himself.

‘But was that a surprise?’ he thought to himself. ‘_Of course _ the man knows what he’s doing. Just like you knew he would.’

Tony kissed along Peter’s jawline, stopping just below his ear, teasing the spot behind it with his tongue. “You feel delicious. You sound even better.” He slipped his second finger inside the boy. He felt him tense. “I wanna watch every bit of you come apart for me. Not gonna stop until you do.” He felt that tension also slip away as his breath was hot and moist against Peter’s neck. Peter was incredibly responsive. He thought he would be. Those spidey-senses dialed up to eleven.

But there was something of a different nature in his responsiveness. The kid said he’d been with other people before, but if so… he suspected that Peter was only _ technically _ not a virgin. Which shouldn’t be turning him on so much. There was something about having an inexperienced partner that was always a thrill. Having that inexperienced partner be _ Peter? _ That wasn’t just a thrill, that was mind-blowing.

He knew that Peter liked being touched, but there was no getting around the need to separate, at least a little, because entering from this position was fine with someone experienced, but with someone not, he needed a better angle. “God I hate letting go of you,” he said as he slowly moved across Peter’s body. As he sat back, he kept one hand on the boy at all times, firmly touching, grounding. “There baby. That’s gotta be more comfortable inside you…”

Peter reached for Tony as soon as he moved, then caught himself. (Dammit, he needed to stop acting like a virgin!) He let his hand lie on Tony’s arm, and left it there. “Just don’t be too far away,” he breathed, trying to relax. Tony knew what he was doing. 

“…You might not be able to be hurt, but I don’t just want to make you not hurt, I want to make you feel good.” He curled his third finger underneath the other two as he moved them, spreading them wider until Peter was opening. “You are so sweet. I’ve wanted you so long. God you look beautiful like this, on my bed, moaning, covered in sweat, wanting this.” He slipped his third finger inside. “Wanting me.”

“Fuuuuuuuuck Tony…” Peter groaned, hating the sound of his own voice, hating how small and how helpless he sounded. But Tony’s fingers felt better than anything he could have imagined. Not a single toy, not a single fantasy, had really prepared him for how good this felt.

Tony twisted his hand, rocking his fingers, still pressed together. With his other hand he caressed Peter, always keeping his touch with him. “I know I’m probably bigger than anything you’ve had before, but you’re opening so good for me Peter. You’re gonna be so hot and tight around me.” As he spoke, he began to spread his fingers wider. “Baby, nothing I could’ve imagined feels as good as you do right now. And trust me, I did a lot of imagining.” 

Tony crept closer, it was more awkward doing it one handed, but he’d seen how Peter reacted to being completely separated. He tried his best to align himself with his fingers. When he had them spread at their widest, almost all the way pulled out, he touched the head of his cock to the boy’s opening, below them. “I want you Peter.” He knew that Peter probably needed more time. More time to adjust, more kissing, more sweet talk, more… whatever. Thing was, Tony needed more too. More of being inside of Peter the way he’d been imagining. Imagining that Peter would want him. He slid his fingers out and pressed forward. As he entered, he leaned over the boy until he was laying on top of him, pulling himself deeper, sliding along Peter’s sweat-slicked skin.

Tony’s body on top of him was (literally) a dream come true, and Tony’s fingers were doing things to him he hadn’t dreamed possible. He wanted to express this, and he tried, but the only thing that came out were embarrassing little whimpers and the three words “OhgodTony” over and over again. His jaw hung open as he felt the tip of Tony’s cock press into him — the number of fantasies this was fulfilling was way too overwhelming so he tried not to think about it — and he let Tony push inside.

It was so much better than fingers (even _ Tony’s _ fingers) and he moaned in pleasure. All his toys were cold and hard and unyielding, but this was Tony, and this was real and human and _ perfect_. Huge, yes (but nothing hurt him! That part had been true!) and impossibly warm but perfect all the same.

“Oh god Peter,” Tony moaned into the boy’s neck. “I… you’re… god you’re beautiful.” 

Peter was about to whisper something similar in return when suddenly Tony was pushing further into his body than anything ever had before and that wasn’t good at all.

“Okay backupbackupbackup…” Peter squeaked and when Tony didn’t comply immediately he simply backed up himself and he was free.

“Okay,” he said, taking a few panting breaths. He put both hands on Tony’s face and held his head, the same way he had done for the kiss.

“Now do that _ all _again.” 

Tony was surprised when Peter slid himself up the bed and off of his cock. But he knew there was a particular thrill when you were opened for the first time. Wanting to feel that again. Carefully he followed the boy up the bed and pressed himself against his opening. “Like this Peter?” He pushed in even slower, letting Peter feel every moment of the experience. He stopped when he was about halfway in. He raised his hips and pulled almost all the way out again before beginning another slow entry.

It seemed to work. Peter was smiling now, his eyes closed, his face blissful.

But when Tony tried pulling out a third time Peter’s eyes flew open and his arms tightened around Tony’s shoulders. “No… no… come back!” and Tony moved slowly up Peter’s body.

Tony seated himself in as far as he could in that position and smiled. “I’m right here. Not going anywhere.” He rocked his hips, staying inside Peter, moving shallowly, watching his face, looking for that wonderful blissed out expression he’d seen. He wanted to see that again. Repeatedly. Often. A lot even. That expression, which he’d admittedly seen on so many others, somehow looked better on Peter than on any of them. 

Not until he saw the teasing edge of that bliss on the corners of Peter’s lips did he lengthen his stroke, giving Peter more and deeper. He was careful to stay touching the kid, because that was obviously a thing for him. and a thing for Tony too, he found. The distance he liked with others he didn’t want with Peter. He wanted to be practically inside his skin. 

Tony balanced on his elbows and put his hands on either side of Peter’s face, bringing him into a gasping kiss. “Baby, I know you can’t be hurt… but tell me if I do something that doesn’t feel good, okay? Because… you kinda feel… god I want more of you. I want everything of you.”

“Dontstopdontstopdontstop” Peter whimpered against his mouth. His eyes were closed tight and was making tiny sounds that might have been of pleasure or something else, but he was also holding Tony impossibly tight and bucking back up to him causing Tony to… 

He bowed his back to push farther in that he’d been before. He wanted to feel Peter surrounding him completely. “Put your legs around my waist, baby. Push your hips up and this’ll be better.” God it was so obvious that Peter had been, at best, exaggerating his experience.

He knew that shouldn’t excite him. He knew it. But the idea that he was the first… Because seriously… Experience? So not a thing for Peter. It was beautiful. 

“If you do, you’ll open easier.” 

Peter whimpered, afraid to open his eyes, afraid to speak. Afraid that moving his legs would mean there would be even more of this sensation, this brand new and never-conceived-of sensation (dammit why hadn’t he invested in LONGER toys? He should have done more research) and afraid that if he didn’t comply, he’d just give away his secret. 

“Peter, you feel… god… so much… baby it’s so much. I know it probably sounds like a line, but I promise you… you’re very much… baby you’re like nothing I’ve ever known before. I need more of you. I need _ all _of you.”

Being called ‘baby’ was a thrill Peter had never known. Even having soared over the streets of New York City. Even having been to outer space. It made him feel weightless. 

He hooked one leg over Tony’s waist.

“Say it again.”

“I need you Peter. God, I _ want _you.” Tony closed his eyes. “I need you.” He moved his hips, seeking the greater depth that Peter’s raised leg allowed. “Baby… I knew… I knew but I never expected...” He drowned everything else in a deep kiss and started to move his hips in a steady rhythm.

“Say it again,” Peter demanded, his words muffled beneath Tony’s demanding mouth.

Tony wanted to hide. He knew it was too soon. But he’d been holding in his feelings about Peter for so long. They’d been building stronger and stronger ever since they got each other back. The desperate desire to never let go again. The fear that it could all be taken away. That he could be alone and without the one person he’d come to care about more than any other. There was no denying Peter.

“I need you, Peter.” He didn’t hide. He looked at him. “Everything. You have…” His breath caught. “Yours, Peter. I’m… yours. Whatever there is of me… is yours.”

“Oh ** _god _ ** Tony,” was all Peter could say to the confession. But he could _ do _more. He wrapped his other leg around Tony’s waist. Peter closed his eyes and he hung on for dear life.

Tony made his confession, and Peter hadn’t pulled away. His response was to cling to him. Not to pull back. Not to look at him askance and say, ‘whoa old man that’s a bit much to put on me’. Instead, he _ clung _ to him. Those strong muscular legs he’d been dreaming of, wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. Peter needed him as close to him as he needed to be close to Peter. 

He let himself press all the way in, holding still for a moment then circling his hips, grinding against the boy, before pulling back. Slowly still. So slowly. He wanted to feel every moment of finally having Peter. He remembered that his young lover had probably never been with anyone before. So at the depth of his stroke he held himself still for as long as he could to let Peter adjust to the feeling of being full. But his control, his self-restraint, was stretched too thin. He wanted to feel Peter opening around him. Tightening around him. Needing him. He tried. He failed.

The best he could manage was to keep his movements steady as he increased their speed. “Peter,” he moaned against the boy’s neck. “So good. Much… _ much _ more than a dream, baby,” he gasped. “You’re so fuckin’ real,” he said, rushing those words out. “I’ve… wanted… a lot of things… _ needed_?… that’s… you…” His ability for speech left to wherever his self-control had fucked off. There wasn’t anything but finally having what he’d been wanting. And taking what he’d been given.

Peter was proud of himself. He had done exactly what Tony asked, and yes, now he was being invaded in ways he had never dreamed of before. But he was okay. He wasn’t whimpering or wincing anymore. Just breathing. Breathing through the… not pain but definitely not pleasure… breathing through ** _this,_ ** relaxing, knowing his secret was safe. And, by morning? Irrelevant.

And then Tony had started _ talking _and Peter felt his entire body begin to glow.

“Yes, yes,” he breathed, to the thrusts, to the words. To the meaning. Tony was saying things Peter had dreamed of (but had told himself was impossible.) 

He had asked Tony to take him to bed while constantly reminding himself ‘I’ve been hit by a train, nothing could hurt more than that’ but now he realized he’d be happy to be hit by two trains, going in opposite directions, to be ** _here_**. To have Tony in his arms. Making those faces. Saying those words.

Tony reached over, clumsily searching for Peter’s wrist. Finding it, he moved the boy’s hand between them and circled his fingers around his own cock. “Go on, baby,” he panted. “Wanna feel you come for me.”

Being hit by a train wasn’t fun, and coming while being hit by a train was impossible, so Peter, reluctantly, pulled his hand away. “You first.”

He slid his hand along the back of Tony’s neck in what he hoped was a sexy move.

“Come inside me, Tony. Make me yours.”

“Baby, you’re already that.” He kissed Peter again as he let the last bits of his control go. 

Come inside Peter? Make him yours? A foregone conclusion from their first kiss. There wasn’t anyone else’s that Peter would ever be. Tony was was lost as he buried himself inside his boy over and over, working towards his finish, holding him tight, keeping him close. So close that there was nothing he could do but hide his face into Peter’s neck and groan out his name in desperation as he came inside him. 

He was a much better lover than this. He had finesse and moves and _ smooth_. Every bit of that better lover that he was, was gone. It was easy to be a better lover when he wasn’t overwhelmed by _ want_. Wasn’t overwhelmed by _ NEED_. 

He’d rushed Peter’s first time. There were moments he was in discomfort. While he tried to fix them, they shouldn’t have been there at all. With anyone else, he could take hours. Kissing, touching, fingering, easing them into knowing what his cock felt like and teaching them how to accept it into their bodies. With Peter he did the kissing, touching, and fingering. As long as Tony was against him, he was definitely pleased with that. But when he slid into Peter, which at least he did slowly, all hope was lost. He dreamt of that moment for too long. He pushed a little fast, fucked a little too hard, but at least he was gentle about it. 

He was glad Peter was content to have him hidden in the crook of his neck. Tony realized all the things he’d said. There was no dirty talk, but that didn’t make it any less obscene. He revealed a part of his soul. You didn’t get any dirtier than that.

Of all the amazing things that had happened to Peter that night, of all the miracles, perhaps the best of all was that Tony’s face was buried in his neck when he came. Because Peter did ** _not _ **want Tony to see his face right now. 

His eyes were wide. His jaw was hanging open. _ Because he had done it_. He had gotten Tony Stark into bed, he had never been forced to admit that it was his first time, and the man had just said so many amazing things. Peter gazed up at the ceiling, trying to make his mind believe that it was all real. 

But like the very first days of the spider bite, his mind just kept assuring him it was all a dream. So he stopped arguing. He just grinned like a damned fool and enjoyed the dream.

But that probably wasn’t good, he was probably supposed to be doing something else right now. Tony had just come in a spectacular fashion, come in his arms, (came and said that he made Peter his, well, he _ practically _ said that) and there was probably something he was supposed to be doing right now other than gaping at the ceiling and smiling at his wonderful dream. He reached out tentatively to caress Tony’s hair (he knew _ he _didn’t like to be touched right after coming, let alone talked to, so he moved with caution.) 

“Oh my god, is this real?” didn’t sound very smooth, certainly didn’t sound sophisticated, so he tried to say something else. Only his head was ringing and his body was vibrating and his heart was pounding because of the things Tony had just said. So when he opened his mouth all that came out was, “Am I really yours?”

Tony raised himself onto his elbows, taking his weight off of the amazing boy beneath him. He looked into his face. “Pete, I know I should preface this with ‘if you want to be’, but…” He tried to calm the panting urgency that was still in his breaths. “You’re mine, Peter. I’m not g…” _ Going to let you go, ever? Nope. Not that. Let’s _ try _ to be a little bit normal, okay Tony? _ “You’re mine.”

But then Peter was kissing him deeply and it didn’t matter what he had been trying to say, no matter how crazy.

“Oh god,” Peter gasped, pulling away from Tony’s mouth just enough to speak. Tony’s cock was still inside him, and, softening now, felt amazing. Peter wasn’t sure he had ever felt anything so intimate. “You’re still inside me. Oh Tony, that was amazing.”

Gently wove his fingers through his sweat-damp curls. “All those reasons at the beginning when I said this wasn’t exactly a good idea?” Tony sighed. “This is where they start. And… I don’t want them to start. I don’t want this to be anything _ but _ a good idea. A great idea. God Peter… I want you so much. Not just this. I mean… yeah… this. But I… I want… I meant it… I want the _ **everything** _of you. And baby… you gotta know that you’re on the shit end of the stick, but you have everything of me. There isn’t any part of me that doesn’t have Peter Parker’s name stamped all over it.”

“The shit… end of the… oh _ Tony _ that’s _ so _ romantic…” he giggled, caressing Tony’s face, keeping their faces nose to nose. He was having trouble processing right now. This might _ really _be a dream given how nonsensical things were… including the part where Tony’s cock inside him NOW was incredible and he wanted it to last forever. Also he was so hard he was dizzy.

Tony chuckled. “I’ve been called a lot of things, romantic hasn’t ever been one of them.” He put a quick kiss on Peter’s lips. “But baby, you got to see me come and I haven’t gotten to see you come yet.” He smiled. “In your vast experience…” Tony _ tried _ to keep some of the teasing tone out of his voice. Because it was clear that Peter wanted him to believe he _ had _ that vast experience. “Have you had anyone go down on you before? Cos I’d kinda like to know the taste of you. It’s a lot less romantic, but…” He ran his hand down Peter’s side as he slid lower. “I did say _ everything._” His kiss left Peter’s lips, caught the point of his chin, moved it's way down to his throat, where he licked the sweet salt sweat there. He began to kiss farther down Peter’s chest. “I’m not ever going to get enough of you.” He put another kiss there. “Okay. Maybe I am a romantic. But only where you’re concerned.”

_ “_**_No_**_!” _ Peter cried out, startling both of them. He tried to hide his embarrassment by hiding his face in Tony’s neck. “Don’t let go of me.” 

Boldly, he took Tony’s hand in his and moved it to his cock. He moaned as Tony wrapped his fingers around Peter’s shaft. Then he grinned. This dream was _ amazing. _

“Okay baby,” Tony smiled. He briefly let go of Peter and rolled onto his side, bringing Peter with him sliding his other hand underneath the boy’s neck, pulling him closer, touching with the entire length of their bodies. He moved his hips back just enough to reach his hand between them and leave room for it to move. 

The virgin in his bed was clearly having a problem with distance and not being touched, as well as hiding the fact that he _ was _ a virgin. So Tony chose words that would let Peter keep his cover story intact. “How could I possibly have thought about leaving the touch of you. Peter, I would’ve missed you as soon as I moved.” He kissed the boy as his hand slid up Peter’s shaft. “There’s a certain way things go with other people.” But the next? He couldn’t quite conceal the… difficulty… he was having with the fact that his next words contained a confession that was too entirely true. 

“Baby… you… you are _ so _ not other people.” He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to say it. But he couldn’t go _ without _ saying it. “I have never wanted to be this close with anyone.” 

“Oh god Tony,” was all Peter managed to say. He wanted to say something else, something like ‘really? Then why did you wait for so long?’ or maybe something like ‘Well ** _obviously_**_, _ we are Iron Man and Spider-Man, we are epic’. Then Tony started steadily stroking him and all Peter could do was gasp and twitch and whimper.

It was… it was so much better, the way Peter needed it. Tony couldn’t get enough of him. Holding him and feeling his cock respond to his hand, watching Peter’s face every time he did something _ right_. Remembering that. Doing it again. Listening to his gasps. Lightly kissing the moans off of his lips. Whispering little encouragements in his ear. Closing his other hand around the back of Peter’s neck. _ So _ much better. There was… god there was such an _ intimacy_. No wonder he’d always moved to doing something else. Something designed to show off and keep the other person at a distance. “Peter, you’re beautiful. Don’t want to let you go,” he admitted, trying to keep how desperately true that was from his voice. Instead he distracted the boy by sliding his thumb through the wetness at the tip of his cock and rubbing it across the sensitive spot beneath the slit.

“Oh god Tony, I can’t believe that… oh _ god_…” Peter’s hand flew out and wrapped around Tony’s wrist - but couldn’t bear to move the man’s hand. Dammit he should be saying something… the man was baring his soul here… and Peter had literally said nothing other than ‘Oh god Tony’? This wasn’t good.

But then Tony’s fingers were doing impossible things to his cock and his brain just wasn’t cooperating. “How are you so good at this, Tony? How are you so good at taking me apart?” That was good. He was proud of that. He didn’t think he was going to get anything else out.

“Baby, I’m good but I’m not _ that _ good,” Tony said… no… Tony _ deflected_. He hid behind an overconfident tone. But the truth will out. He couldn’t remember who said that. No matter how much he wished it wasn’t true, it was. “I never _ wanted _ to see someone… come apart the way I need to see you… in my arms… in my hands… underneath me.” He knew that one of the criticisms he’d faced by lovers was that he was a ‘wall of sound’. That wall had always been his ego speaking. But now… the words kept _ rushing _ out. And his protective ego was nowhere to be found. “Peter, I want to find every way that you respond. I want to find every bit of you that unwraps itself in me. I want to take you apart. I want to be the one who puts you back together again.” He moved his hand in a way that he knew Peter would be unable to resist. “That. Right there.” He did it again. “I need that to be mine.” _ And mine alone, _he finished silently.

“Oh god _ yes _Tony. Yes. Yes to everything.” 

The fact that giving a hand job was not unknown to Tony with a few other people didn’t stop this simple act from being unique now that it was Peter. He devoured Peter’s increasing responses as he brought him closer. The feel of his cock twitching and straining in his hand was unlike any other. There were going to be a lot of ways, since Peter had made it clear that _ repeatedly _was a thing, that he was going to make him come. But this would always be one of them, where it never was with anyone else.

Peter was clinging to Tony with embarrassing desperation, and to be fair, he really didn’t want to let go. But sometimes when he came, he broke things. So he reached out with both hands above his head, grabbed two handfuls of bedcover and concentrated on the fabric in his hands. (Tony wouldn’t mind if he ruined the bedcover, would he? No, he had lots of money.) 

He tried to let it happen. He closed his eyes. He turned his head. He let his jaw hang slack and tried to remember not to shout. He knew he was far too loud for human ears when he shouted. He breathed. 

But before he came, he tried his best again. More than three words this time. Something personal, something deep, the way Tony had been talking to him. Tony deserved to hear _ something. _

“I love you Tony.”

And then his body bucked up suddenly, his neck arched, and he came.

Tony let go of Peter’s neck and wrapped his arm behind his chest, holding him close, not letting him move away no matter how strong he was. If he was going to move, he was going to take Tony with him. And he did. They both rose off the bed, held together by Tony’s arm, moved together by Peter’s strength. He held him through it. Through the tightness of it, through the shudders and quakes that rippled through his body. Through the broken, panting breaths. He probably held on too tightly. Would’ve been too tightly for anyone _ but _ Peter. For any ordinary lover. But his lover was _ extraordinary_.

“Peter,” he said softly, smiling tenderly as he let go of the boy’s probably now-oversensitive cock. “Baby, been waiting so long.” God, would he ever again _ not _ blurt out all the things he kept inside? It had taken him ** _years _ ** to say it to anyone else. “Waiting… so long to tell you… how much…” _ Obscenely _ how much. _ Dangerously _ how much. “…I love you.” 

It was messy. They’d need to shower but he didn’t care. He circled Peter with both arms and brought him into a kiss. He whispered against the boy’s lips, “Until you swung back through that portal, I didn’t have a reference for that word.”

Peter couldn’t move. Wasn’t sure he was ever going to move again. But when he heard Tony mention the portal he turned his head just enough for a kiss. “Oh _ god _Tony, I…”

Peter pulled away, turned his head away, scrunched his eyes shut and desperately tried to talk, to confess, to express himself the way Tony could. 

But all that came out was: “I was so stupid.

“I was such a stupid, _ dorky _kid and I had such a stupid crush on you. I had terrible nightmares about you finding out. I was so ashamed… I lusted after you and it didn’t feel right… I felt like I was sexually harassing you when I…” He tried to say ‘masturbated’ but only only got half way through the word.

“…when I did this,” he said, taking Tony’s hand and moving it to his cock. “Doing it, calling out your name, dreaming that I was in your mouth or in your hand, and you didn’t even know, it felt wrong. I was so sure I’d grow out of it, that I’d wake up some day and realize I didn’t feel awkward or stupid or helpless or out of control anymore. And I _ tried _ to be with other guys, I really did, some guys really wanted to date me after sex and I… I was just like ‘sorry I’m really into older dudes,’ but then my friends tried to introduce me to some older guys and it was just like ** _no_**_…” _He grimaced. Then he shrugged. He had no way to explain it better than that.

“Peter, I realized that I felt differently about you after you were gone. You were a memory that wouldn’t fade. You were a ghost that wouldn’t let me rest.” _ God Tony… so much… too much… shut the fuck up Tony! _ He didn’t. “I got you back. I had to. I gave you a second chance. And then I stayed away. You were young. Hell, you’re young now. You deserved to have a life of your own. Grow up. See if you outgrew that crush I knew you had on me. To see if… that crush… I didn’t let myself hope… I wasn’t going to push… if that crush grew to be… more than a crush…” _ Words. You’re doing the word vomit thing. You’re fumbling like… _ “Your dorky awkwardness has nothing on me. Baby, losing you was like… losing… my heart. It only came back when you did.” He blinked, long and slow, before beginning again. “Yet when you love someone, you want what’s best for them, even if it’s not best for you. That you want this? That you want _ me_? Peter… I… I can’t… **You’re mine**,” he finished, holding Peter with a tight, possessive squeeze. Meant to be quick, lasting too long.

If he said “Oh God Tony” one more time he was going to puke. But there was nothing else to say. So he just said “Yes,” and kissed the man.

“Yes,” he said again, and kissed again, and moaned when he realized he didn’t HAVE to say it any better than that. It was clearly what Tony wanted to hear.

“Yes,” he said, combing his hands through Tony’s sweat-damp hair and pulling him into the kiss.

“Yes,” he said even though his mouth was currently crushed against Tony’s mouth and it only came out at as vowel. He didn’t care. He kept saying it over and over.

“Yes… yes… yeOH SHIT…”

He yelped and started so badly that Tony startled too. He jerked his hand down to cup his ass so suddenly that he realized, just as suddenly, that Tony would think he was hurt and he was going to have to explain himself.

Explain that….for the very first time… ** _despite_ ** _ all his research_… he had just _ realized _that he had just had sex and after sex naturally… 

“I’m leaving a wet spot,” he said in a tiny voice, covering his face with his other hand.

Tony tried really hard not to laugh. Okay, that wasn’t going to work so he tried really hard not to laugh _ too much _ and to do so in a gentle manner. Peter was such a cute, adorable _ virgin. _ “Baby, sex is messy. Showers are a thing, as are more sheets in the linen closet. Besides… I kinda like you messy. You’re cute messy. Especially when I made you that way.” 

Peter grinned from ear to ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU KNOW YOU CAN'T LEAVE MORE KUDOS so why not leave a comment?
> 
> Comments are soooooooooo easy. Just cut and paste your favorite line!


	6. That would be… obsessive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Dammit_** this wasn’t fair. He wanted to be pissed at Tony, wanted to be _livid._ Had the _right_ to be livid. When he tried to sort it all out, to try to justify what Tony was doing, his mind was overcome with The Cold. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This WIP is completely finished. It's over 29k long, so we're going to be posting two chapters per week. Sundays and Thursdays. So in six weeks, you'll have it all.
> 
> The tags listed are for the entire story, not just this chapter.
> 
> *****  
Tony has his arc reactor back because reasons. Tony survived Endgame because reasons. What reasons you want to give, are the right ones.

** _OMG no im so screwed_ ** ** _  
_ ** ** _My boyfriend will be back in 16 hours _ ** ** _  
_ ** ** _and GUESS where Im going to be RIGHT then? _ ** ** _  
_ ** ** _Upstate New York of course_ **

It was more than an hour later that MJ texted back:

** _OMG the St. John Fisher College project - dude ur screwed_ **

** _THIS IS NOT FAIR what if i just showed up sick that day? Tony needs me._ **

** _Dude ud flunk. Totally. And your team would kill you   
_ ** ** _its all there grades dude not just urs you committed   
_ ** ** _thats like 25% of ur grade   
_ ** ** _right???_ **

** _33% oh god i’m going to flunk i can’t believe this_ **

** _Cant u just call him this is what skype is for _ **

** _Dammit this isnt fair ill just drop it_ **

** _TOO LATE DUDE no you cant get an incomplete   
_ ** ** _No srs P you cant piss THAT professor off  
_ ** ** _Think about next year_ **

** _But tony needs me_ **

** _Hes a grone man dude tell him to wait 4 hours jesus_ **

Etc. etc. Sitting beside MJ in her dorm they actually had fun looking up Google Maps and freeform inventing a project with enough details that it could pass for real.

Soon the two had conveyed enough badly-spelled information (punctuated with a LOT of ‘dude’ and OMGs and an occasional abbreviations that they had made up on the spot, just for fun) to make it clear that Peter was prepared to piss off a professor AND flunk an important class and skip an upstate New York event just to meet Tony in New York City the MOMENT his plane arrived rather than wait the five hours it would take to drive back from Fisher. Then it was Tony’s move, either call and talk to him and press for information about Peter’s schedule, or reroute the flight to the Avenger Headquarters nearby, or just claim that Tony had a business meeting and wouldn’t be free for a few hours after he arrived. 

Either way, it would prove that Tony had been listening in. 

It was only after he left her dorm room that it sunk in exactly what he was doing. But this was crazy, right? Not even possible, let alone ethical. And in the end, really, none of it mattered. 

Tony was obviously NOT monitoring what went on on his phone.

Right?

That would be weird.

That would be… obsessive. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Turbulence as they were landing in Honolulu woke Tony. He’d had a hard time actually sleeping as opposed to his eyes closing for a few minutes and then waking again, worried about those deleted texts, tossing for another hour or two before his eyes drifted again and the whole cycle repeated. 

“Where the fuck are we?” he asked, pressing the intercom to the cockpit. He hated flying with rent-a-pilots instead of Happy, but on a long flight one pilot wasn’t allowed to handle the whole trip. 

“Circling Inouye International, Mister Stark. We should be landing in fifteen minutes.”

Tony sat up, scrubbed at his eyes, and looked at the blinking light on his phone. When he picked it up, it rang with Peter’s text tone and his hidden text tone right after.

** _There’s nothing to explain except that yes I am a shit lover. I don’t make enough time for you baby when you are the only thing I should be making time for_ **

** _But yeah I haven’t slept for way too long and a ten minute nap doesn’t really count. 9 hrs then I’m home_ **

Finished with the actual sent messages, Tony scrolled down to see the hidden ones. Not unsent ones this time, but ones sent to his friends. In this case, MJ. Worrying about a school project that was going to have him out of town when Tony’s plane landed. He combed through the messages with their horrendous spelling (MJ’s was even worse than Peter’s) to discover if the project was a real delay or if Peter was trying to avoid having a breakup confrontation with him. 

That was easily enough checked. “FRIDAY. Search: Columbia University. Crosslink: Peter’s classes. Phrase: St. John Fisher College. Return: Is this an actual project given by one of Peter’s professors.” He always talked to his AIs conversationally. When nervous, the programmer came out.

“Yes boss. The project is real. The professor has assigned a high portion of the final grade to the project. It’s not one that Mister Parker should miss if he wishes to pass.”

Tony wanted to see Peter as soon as he could. He also didn’t want Peter messing up his classes for it. The kid already missed enough class with delays from his patrolling and crime fighting. Missing a major portion of his grade just to meet Tony’s plane was unacceptable. And easily solved.

** _Ground delays in Honolulu. Something about refueling. Private planes needing to get in line behind commercial flights. It can be fixed, but it’s gonna take greasing some wheels. I have to change over two pilots because of regs. I hate flying without Happy. He handles all this shit for me_ **

** _9hrs looks more like 15 or 16 before I get to LaGuardia. Did I mention that I hate flying without Happy? Because I do_ **

** _I hate messing with your schedule like this. Can you still swing by the tower when I get home? I miss you_ **

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Peter read the words and felt his entire body go cold. Cold to the marrow.

He knew the feeling — that feeling of The Cold. He had been feeling it for a while, but god, never like this. Never this deep.

Sitting and texting MJ while they sat in her dorm room had been fun, if ridiculous. Creating a fake flyer and an equally fake syllabus and scanning them and submitting them to FRIDAY’s folder where his educational information was stored didn’t even feel like hacking (because it was so easy) so it didn’t seem _that _ridiculous.

Until it did.

Because it was ** _ridiculous _**— he has assumed Tony was paranoid because of lack of sleep, but how could he excuse his own paranoia? He couldn’t. He was an idiot. Still he made sure that IF Tony decided to see if his “I can’t meet you at this time” excuse was legit (he knew that man pretty well) FRIDAY’s internet search could easily be skewed. (He knew FRIDAY and her data-gathering capabilities pretty well. Probably too well. He had possibly been poking around in places he shouldn’t have been.) It was more of a challenge than a REAL precaution (but still he NEEDED to know that, IF Tony DIDN’T change his schedule, it was not because he realized the excuse was fake but because he had never seen the texts at all.)

Not that Peter REALLY believed that Tony…

And there it was. Cold from his scalp to the bottoms of his feet. It was emotional and real and _ painful. _ Every spidersense he had was tingling. His sense of danger was skewed. It normally gave a sense of what direction the danger was coming from. Not now. 

Now, it was telling him the danger was coming from _ everywhere_.

When he left MJ he had promised to tell her what he found out. Now he couldn’t even imagine talking to her about it, he couldn’t imagine talking to anyone about it.

But he had to ** _do _ **something. Didn’t he?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Peter sat on the roof of Grand Central Terminal. He sat here a lot, listening to the sounds of the city, sometimes glaring at Stark Tower, sometimes turning his back to it. This was the spot where he had landed after nearly braining himself on One Vanderbilt. This is where he sat and reread Tony’s incoherent texts. This is where he came to think.

He sat on the warm rooftop in the full sunlight and shook his head in hopes to shake it clear. His brain felt so full as to be overflowing — he wondered if this is what ‘going crazy’ felt like. After the spiderbite he often had the same problem, his senses dialed up to insane levels, but he had learned tricks to block out information and focus, tricks he employed now without even realizing it. He tried them now, tried sitting in the same place he had sat as he read Tony’s texts. He tried to focus. But his mind only sped, helplessly, from memory to memory. 

Tony’s apology, the morning after their first night together, for not being gentle _ enough_. The place where Tony had sat the first time he finally let Peter go down on him. The first time he had come in Tony’s mouth. The night he had finally worked up the nerve to ask about the arc reactor.

This wasn’t constructive. He had enough tender (and pornographic) memories about Tony Stark to fill a book, to fill a series of books. What good did that do? He needed to stop strolling down memory lane and actually review his options.

He could break up with his boyfriend. People broke up with their boyfriends all the time.

His boyfriend was _ Tony Stark_. There was no one else like him in the universe.

His boyfriend was spying on him, in creepy ways that defied description.

His boyfriend was the savior of the _ entire freaking world. _ Maybe that earned him some extra forgiveness? 

There was no shame, Peter realized now, that _ this _ was the man he gave his virginity to, far from it. It was ** _perfect _ ** that Tony had been the only man to know him that way — because Peter was the only man Tony had allowed to touch him _ there_.

Peter had thought about that, a lot, in the very beginning. There were other people on the planet who had touched, had examined, Tony’s arc reactor. And Tony and Bruce, Peter knew, had probably had discussions about the device on a more intimate level than, say, the Avenger’s medical team. Other people had touched Tony _ there _clinically, scientifically. Dr. Cho had to know the ins and outs of Tony’s body just to keep the man alive. But Peter…

But Peter was the only one who had _kissed _him there.

Peter was the only one who had used his tongue there.

Peter was the only one who knew it was sensitive.

Peter was the only one who knew that if he touched the arc reactor in just the right way, he could make Tony come… 

That had been an important night. Tony had come in his mouth that night.**_ Dammit _** this wasn’t fair. He wanted to be pissed at Tony, wanted to be _ livid_. Had the _ right _to be livid. When he tried to sort it all out, to try to justify what Tony was doing, his mind was overcome with The Cold. 

But when he wanted to be angry with Tony he could only feel overwhelmed with intimate memories. He couldn’t think straight. He needed to think straight. He needed to make a decision.

Spider-Man startled a few pigeons (and possibly a few New Yorkers) with some angry, wordless shouting at the sky. He left the roof of Grand Central with no more idea of what to do than when he started.

And the worst part?

There was absolutely no one to ask for advice.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

** _So OF COURSE two of the guys get the stomach flu so OF COURSE he calls off the trip so I’m not even leaving town after all the panic OMG_ **

** _Lol dude ur life sux_ **

** _So now u can make ur date now _ **

** _Wont even see him till 9 good because were hold up in the library. emergency meeting. how to proceed WITHOUT throwupboy 1 and vomitfactor 2 we have to present monday_ **

**_Lol whts ur new name _ **

**_Not-Throwing-Up-Boy_ **

**_So ur gonna call ur studdly boyfriend and see about his flight _ **

**_NO god hes got so much to do he hates planes i have to do this library thing anyway. We. are. So. screwed. The assignment is changed now we have to present in front of YOU KNOW WHO_ **

**_Shit ur gunna be doing that all night ur team r loosers _ **

**_Nope at 8:47 im out the library is only 13 minutes away from his bedroom if i push it dont look for me in a studygroup after 8:47 i have a studdly boyfriend to see_ **

Then Tony’s phone rang with the ‘sent text’ tone. ** _I WILL be there at 9 I wont be late. _ ** Peter texted. ** _ I miss you._ **

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Of course the story about 15-16 hour flight time was just a story. At noon, Happy was there to pick him up and take him home. 

Peter had complained about Tony only wanting to fuck his ass, but unfortunately, fucking Peter’s ass was one of the top ten things in his life. Maybe top five. Maybe top two because fucking his mouth would be right up there too. But the ass would probably win.

Tony poured himself a drink — just one because he wanted to be very sober when Peter came by but could also use a bit of courage just in case he was only coming by to break up with him. Peter’s alert dinged on Tony’s phone. He read the texts. Peter was finished texting MJ. The number was his other friend, Ned’s.

** _OMG this library NO WAY_ **

** _wut  
_ ** ** _what _ **

** _Dude they found a book on creationism IN THE 520s hello that’s a 220 if I ever saw one how does an actual LIBRARY not know the dewey decimal system???_ **

Tony smiled at the casualness of their friendship. And the things they were discussing. Ordinary things. Typical undergrad things.

** _U had the dds memorized when you were 10 u were such a nerd_ **

** _OMG no  
_ ** ** _Dude explain to me how LOOKING BEYOND CATEGORIES is in 363.49!?!?!?_ **

** _U make no sense_ **

** _363.49 IS SOCIAL PROBLEMS explain to me why GAY is a SOCIAL PROBLEM!?!?_ **

** _lol_ **

College social outrage. The optimism before being jaded set in. Even at MIT there were people who were going to change the world with science. There were people who had the time for that level of nonsense rather than learning to build better weapons.

‘Fuzzy headed hippie thinking’. Exactly what a college student should be worried about. It was _ normal_. Peter was blissfully normal. Tony wanted to protect that at all costs. Was he wrong for wanting that youthful optimism in his bed? Every night if he had his way. Peter was such a perfect complement to him. If he could keep him… 

There were things he could do other than fucking the boy. Even after almost a year, Peter was so inexperienced almost anything would be potentially impressive and very enjoyable to them both. How it might feel to put the boy on his knees, like they often did when Tony fucked him. To start caressing his thighs, his back, his ass. To tease with a fingertip but nothing more. Until he replaced the fingertip with his tongue. To have Peter feel the brush of his beard against his thighs. To lick a long wet stripe from the tip of his cock, over his balls, and then to go higher until his tongue again teased at his opening. Imagining how the boy might taste, clean soap, light sweat, on his tongue. 

Would Peter moan as he circled his tongue around his rim? Would he squirm, seeking more pleasure? Would his heightened senses tingle with the new experience, not knowing what to expect? As something he was nearly certain Peter had never done with anyone ever before, would it impress? To show that there was a broader aspect to the things that could be done on black silk sheets. It would be enjoyable from his perspective, feeling Peter move against his face, reaching down and feeling the boy grow harder. Imagining all the sounds, new sounds, surprising sounds, moans of a different sort. Peter was always so expressive with the noises he made. 

But that act wasn’t something everyone enjoyed. The pleasure of it was often overcome by a certain level of expected disgust. It was taboo and not everyone could break through the taboos that surrounded it. Having Peter freak out when he started would certainly not be the effect he was going for. Despite their lack of time together, most of what they’d done had been discussed beforehand. Or during. Or after. It was talked about at some time, at least. They would have to have a discussion about adding this to their sexual repertoire. And discussing things was _ not _ what Tony wanted to do when Peter arrived.

He wanted to avoid discussion entirely. Discussion might lead to certain issues in certain texts being brought up. Anything _ but _discussion. And sex, the act of it, precluded discussion. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU KNOW YOU CAN'T LEAVE MORE KUDOS so why not leave a comment?
> 
> Comments are soooooooooo easy. Just cut and paste your favorite line!
> 
> Witchway's Starker blog on tumblr is [thestarkerisobvious](https://thestarkerisobvious.tumblr.com/).  
Von's Starker blog on tumblr is [starkerstories](https://starkerstories.tumblr.com/).  
Come on by and visit us.


	7. The face of the company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How was he supposed to have a real relationship with Peter when he couldn’t even manage the time for a good fantasy relationship with the kid? If he only had time, he could make Peter feel not like an escort. Not like all he wanted to do was fuck his ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This WIP is completely finished. It's over 29k long, so we're going to be posting two chapters per week. Sundays and Thursdays. So in six weeks, you'll have it all.
> 
> The tags listed are for the entire story, not just this chapter.
> 
> *****  
Tony has his arc reactor back because reasons. Tony survived Endgame because reasons. What reasons you want to give, are the right ones.

** _Dude ALL these lbgt books are in SOCIAL PROBLEMS even the Jones/Ward one and now i’m pissed_ **

**** _Omg_  
** _Srs  
_ ** **** _Ok i give up wtf u talking aobut_

** _LBGT YOUTH ISSUES TODAY classified as 363.49 fucking social problem_ **

** _Why u looking for that book_ **

** _Im a gay youth_ **

** _Wut aobut ur project_ **

** _Killing time before they need me omg social problem i'm pissed_ **

** _Yeah but u ARE a social problem_ **

** _Im suing_ **

** _Who_ **

** _Dewey decimal system_ **

** _At least ur not crusing the library for hawt guyz_ **

** _Why should i? Got a hawt boyfriend waiting on me_ **

Peter was still looking for books in the library. He was right. Gay shouldn’t be in the ‘social problems’ category. He’d thought that would be changed by now. At least it wasn’t hidden away behind a desk that you had to ask a judgmental old librarian to see and hope that it didn’t get put on your records so someone _ else _ could see. Tony made a note on his phone. Contact whoever the fuck is still in charge of the Dewey decimal system (and why the hell weren’t they using the Library of Congress system?) God, he was as big a nerd as Peter was. 

A ‘hawt’ boyfriend huh? That was encouraging. And not cruising the library. Even more encouraging since a college library was a _ prime _ cruising location. It was hard not to hook up if you were looking for it in the library. But apparently Peter still thought he had something better waiting at home for him. (How could he think of his penthouse as ‘home’ for the boy? But he did. It was what he wanted. Wanted but couldn’t have. He had to let Peter have his independence. It was important at his age. No matter what _ he _wanted.) Something better was waiting at home. But something that made him feel like an escort, no matter how hot the boyfriend was.

Peter objected to just getting his ass fucked. But there were _ a lot _ of ways to fuck that particular boy’s ass. There were ways they hadn’t tried yet. That might still surprise and please the boy. That might remind him of just how good it felt when Tony fucked his ass. (God that phrase stuck in his head. The irritation of it, the complaint of it, the dismissiveness of it. It wasn’t as bad as _ escort_, but it was damn close.)

There were ways he’d fucked other people (lots of ways, but…) that were never as satisfying as he wanted them to be. Quantity doesn’t equal quality. Ways he’d been dreaming of doing with Peter. Ways he knew would be a thousand percent better with someone as responsive as Peter’s spider-senses made him. And would be a thousand percent better because of the way he felt about him as opposed to any of the others who simply passed through his bedroom. 

Not to impress the kid with his skill and experience alone. There was that, of course, but there was something else Tony wanted, something they rarely had time for. A connection on a deeper level, closer, slower, more… Tony sighed and thought about how early Peter had to be up for classes. How he had a full day tomorrow reporting back from Sydney. How time was never on their side. How sleeping together meant catching a few hours, waking sleepily, showering quickly — apart because it was faster and more efficient — and then heading out the door, with a kiss if it was remembered, often without one. No wonder Peter felt used and like an escort.

The most annoying ringtone. The image associated with it made Tony want to ‘ghost’ her, like Peter said he did to Fury. But ignoring the call just meant another later on. Possibly when Peter was there. And that was something he _ didn’t _ want.

“You’ve been home for an hour. What happened in Sydney?”

“How the hell do you know I’ve been home for an hour.” Tony shook his head. “You do not get to ask Happy where I am just because he was your forehead of security back in L.A.”

“Sydney?”

“Boring, meaningless, and generally something I don’t give a fuck about. Stop sending me halfway around the world, Pepper, for something a middle management fuck can do.”

“You’re the face of the company.”

“I’m also the face that I’d like Peter to see more than once a month.”

“You have a responsibility. Just tell him you’re sorry.”

“‘I’m sorry’ are the two most useless words in the English language. The most meaningless words that anyone can say. Words don't matter, what matters is that I _do_ something about it.”

Tony could practically hear her eyeroll over the phone. He’d said that to her so many times. She said it was just a way for him to get out of apologizing. It wasn’t. Because if she had a point during an argument, he may never have said the words, but he changed the thing she was upset about. That mattered more than words everyone said and never meant.

“How was Sydney?” she asked again.

“Jesus, Pep. Sydney was fine. I signed the papers for the merger. The other guys are willing to deal. Bought the patent. Now have someone else finish the job. I’m not leaving New York for an entire month. You work around _ my _schedule for a change.”

How was he supposed to have a real relationship with Peter when he couldn’t even manage the time for a good fantasy relationship with the kid? If he only had time, he could make Peter feel not like an escort. Not like all he wanted to do was fuck his ass. 

If he had the time… He’d pull Peter into bed with him. Tuck the boy against him. Kiss him for… ages. He never got enough of Peter’s kisses. Things moved forward far too quickly, urged on by a built-in knowledge of time passing. But if he had the time… Time to let themselves slowly rise, slowly build the desire. Time to touch, to feel the heat of fevered skin. He’d roll Peter onto his side and pull him close, slipping his arm under his neck, pressing his chest to the boy’s back. Wrap around him, slide his other arm over him, touch every bit of him. His hands could wander over Peter’s body. Brushing across a nipple, caressing firmly over the boy’s tightly muscled abdomen, sliding lower to tease.

He would lean forward just a bit, still on their sides, but surrounding the boy more, pressing closer. Knowing that Peter would feel the cool metal of his arc reactor, that he never had to hide from him, between his shoulder blades. Something only he never flinched from. He would feel how hard Tony was getting as he rocked along the crack of Peter’s ass. Not rushing to enter, not rushing to ‘fuck his ass’. Just wanting to feel the heat of his skin along his cock. 

Kissing the back of Peter’s neck. That was a daydream in itself. Nuzzling his face into his curly hair. Smelling the sweet scent. Letting his lips drag across the boy’s soft skin. He wanted to wrap himself around Peter. To surround him. To protect him. To love him. Yeah, to fuck him, but god, so close that they were practically in each others’ skin. 

And to hope that he could make him feel safe, feel wanted, feel… feel like Peter needed him as much as he needed Peter. Which was an obscene amount. He’d been in love before. But never with so much jealousy and pain and heartbreak attached. He didn’t even mind the vulnerability of it. So long as it was Peter. Everything was new for the kid. This was new for him. When he thought there would never be anything new in his life. He wanted to hold him and never let go. He couldn’t get the image of having Peter in his arms out of his head. 

Obsessed? Yeah. He’d been down that road before. But this was a whole new level.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can't leave more kudos, so leave a <3 as a 2nd one.
> 
> You've come this far, why not leave a comment? 
> 
> Comments are soooooooooo easy. Just cut and paste your favorite line!
> 
> Witchway's Starker blog on tumblr is [thestarkerisobvious](https://thestarkerisobvious.tumblr.com/).  
Von's Starker blog on tumblr is [starkerstories](https://starkerstories.tumblr.com/).  
Come on by and visit us.


	8. An unimaginable loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t own your phone, just the network it’s on and about half the internet,” Tony said attempting to recover a bit of control and losing the attempt completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This WIP is completely finished. It's over 29k long, so we're going to be posting two chapters per week. Sundays and Thursdays. So in six weeks, you'll have it all.
> 
> The tags listed are for the entire story, not just this chapter.
> 
> *****  
Tony has his arc reactor back because reasons. Tony survived Endgame because reasons. What reasons you want to give, are the right ones.

** _K thats done now we’re just waiting for Fartboy2000 to get here to finalize and their going to start printing i traded leaving early for presenting the whole thing dude i dont care about heights but public speaking? Scary_ **

** _lol_ **

** _3 hours till tony. Trying not to kill anyone._ **

** _Id kill to get out of public speaking_ **

** _OMG check it - library books stacked as poetry  
_ ** ** _People/Occupy Everything/A Glorious Enterprise/This Is NYC_ **

** _Iol ur mental_ **

** _its called Book Spine Poetry  
_ ** ** _its NOT me its these librarians_ **

** _The libarians are mental_ **

** _People/Waste and Want/Everything/In Pursuit of the Unknown _ **

“FRIDAY, show me book spine poetry, definition and examples on the screen.” Tony scrolled through, finding the whole concept interesting. So much more interesting than actual poetry, which was boring when he was forced to take an English elective. But ‘found poetry’ — he scrolled through some examples of different styles — it was almost like scientific discovery. Finding the beautiful within the dross. The samples Peter gave were good examples of the genre. He was curious about what the next one he’d send Ned will be.

** _Ur funny when ur bored_ **

** _OMG this one_ **

** _what_ **

** _OMG its perfect_ **

** _what_ **

** _Tony Stark/Is Spying On Me/Like A Freak/How Is That OK!?_ **

Less curious now. Much more worrying. But there were plenty of biographies on him out there and even a few papers written by him that the library might have. ‘How is that OK!?’ sounded like a basic self-help book. ‘Like a freak’ sounded like a rather spicy one. But… ‘Is spying on me’? As an entire title? He opened a LC search window when Peter walked into the room from his suit pad. One hour early.

From the waist down he was in civvies. His shirt Tony recognized from the original Spider-Man costume, pre-suit days. He was tucking his original spider mask into his belt and his face was unreadable.

Without a word he walked up to Tony and took the tablet out of Tony’s hand. He glanced at it casually, saw Tony’s search, and shrugged. Then, just as casually, he flung the tablet aside, sending through the nearby wall.

“What the fuck?” Startlement won out before his senses could take in the entire situation. Startled mostly by the fact that Peter was standing in the penthouse when he was supposed to be in the library. “Peter? Wha… how?

“I know, right? I’m supposed to be at a library bored-texting my friend for another hour while I wait patiently for my turn to come here and_ suck your cock. _”

“Not exactly where my mind was headed but…”

Peter grabbed Tony by the suit lapels. He had intended to start speaking then, but surprised himself when he found himself first lifting him partially out of the chair.

“You own the suit, so you know where that is, but you don’t own my phone, so explain to me why you think I’m in library texting poetry when _ I never gave you that information _ ** _Tony_**_.” _

He dropped Tony back into the chair, the side table overturning and breaking with the force of it. He was growling through clenched teeth. He didn’t want to do that, he wanted to be calm when he spoke.

What Tony said didn’t help.

“I don’t own your phone, just the network it’s on and about half the internet,” Tony said attempting to recover a bit of control and losing the attempt completely. 

That’s when Peter found himself headed toward the nearest wall, Tony in both hands, shouting, “Do you KNOW how EASY it is to convince FRIDAY I’m in a made-up student conference for a school in upstate New York RIGHT next to Avenger headquarters, just to see if you’ll divert your flight to meet me there or maybe conveniently delay it? Did it ever occur to you that you gave me administration privilege to update _ my own school files?” _

“FRIDAY, remo…” His command was cut off by being bodily picked up, feet off the floor, and held up against the wall. “Fuck Petey!” 

Okay, under just about any other circumstances… fuck, under _ these _ circumstances… the strength that Peter had was more than a little bit… okay, it’s not just the way his pants were being held that was making them tight. He knew, in the hypothetical, that Peter was strong. He knew _ how _ strong by the numbers. But this? His body had _ certain ideas _ about how his mind felt about this. And they weren’t 100% opposite ideas, either.

Peter pulled Tony up, just enough that the man was technically standing, but only on his toes. 

_ “‘Petey?’ _You looked at pictures of ‘Petey’s’ cock that you were NEVER supposed to see. And THAT is a form of sexual assault, Mr. Stark.”

“Oh please! Like you haven’t watched my sex tapes, none of which were released to the ENTIRE INTERNET with my approval. That accusation is beneath you. Although being beneath you…” The thought caused him to lick his lips.

Of course Tony just made a sexual innuendo.

Because of course he did.

It made Peter angry enough to hit something, but hitting something would mean breaking something _(__excuse me, breaking something _ else) and as of this moment, Peter wasn’t sure what that other something would be. He had no plans at this point — he never expected to get as far as the wall — honestly he had expected a Sentinel or Tony’s suit itself to become an issue and that would have given him _ something _ to hit, something that he could hit and not pull a punch. But there was nothing there but Tony, Tony looking disheveled and surprised, but still somehow _ in control as always. _

So he took Tony’s suggestion at face value and turned Tony around to face the wall, then slammed him against it. He pressed his erection — oh there was no denying it was there — against the center of Tony’s ass.

“You saw MJ and I discussing her underwear…” he hissed in the man’s ear. “You saw _ those _ pictures, didn’t you? You know what that girl’s underwear looks like — you saw pictures of the underwear of a college girl, are you _ really _okay with that Mr. Stark?” 

“I already know what a college girl’s underwear looks like from outside and in. That never bothered me. Now, a college boy _ in _ them… that definitely got me _ bothered.” _

“You don’t think you own _ me__,_ you think you own _ everybody__!”_ Peter found himself shouting (vaguely wondering if the neighbors would call the cops — wait Tony HAD no neighbors, and Tony could have called anyone he wanted to just by saying the words out loud — was Tony so completely unperturbed by Peter’s outrage? Did Peter really matter that little?) He now had Tony up in the air, a foot off the ground, one hand on the back of his (ruined) shirt, the other by the belt of his (about to be ruined) trousers.

This was insane. He should have destroyed Tony’s favorite chair with a casual back-kick on his way to the wall, but it was too late now.

So he destroyed Tony’s trousers.

Dropping the man back to his feet he took the belt in both hands he ripped it in two, much of the waistline with it. It was alarming, how easy it had been, the leather tearing like paper in his hands. He had to slow down. Especially if he was going to do what he was planning to do now.

He had to let Tony keep his shirt — he was too far gone to be trusted not to leave bruises on anything else.

Grabbing a fistful of shirt instead of fistful of Tony, he forced the man down until their heads were level then held him there with an arm across his shoulders. Putting one finger in his mouth he wet it and then forced inside Tony’s body.

“Don’t start something you can’t follow through with, baby.” Tony made the challenge. Either outcome was okay with him, though one would be more disappointing than the other. Exactly which was changing moment to moment, second to second.

Peter said nothing — any words now would be weapons that Tony would use, and artfully. He brought his hand back to his mouth and wet another finger (God knows he knew how to do THIS, Tony had had him this way _ many _ times up against _ many _walls.)

He shoved two fingers in, waiting to be told — something, anything. To stop. To wait. To slow down. To offer forgiveness or at least be given a reason to consider it. But Tony said nothing.

It took Tony a breath or two, but only just, before that breath became heavy and slid into the beginning of panting. 

Putting his mouth against Tony’s ear and growling, “You’re internship program _ sucks__,_ Mr. Stark,” before forcing the tip of his cock, wet with precome, inside. 

He wrapped his hand around his shaft, feeding Tony JUST enough cock in hopes to watch Tony’s face change. Tony had done the same to him, quite some time ago.

“Petey, I know…” Tony would admit to his mouth falling open and him _ actually panting for fuck’s sake. _ But pushing back was something he wouldn’t _ admit _ to even if he _ did _ it. A lot. “…it… was… wrong… and… yeah I owe you an… I’m so fuckin’ sorry but… I’m a… Fuck Peter! If you’re gonna fuck me, then really fuck me!… shit boyfriend who’s… baby… we’re gonna have to… talk about it… _ after!” _

At first Peter found himself complying — feeding Tony more, centimeter by centimeter, watching his face the way Tony had watched his that first time — splitting his attention between the incredible heat encasing his cock and the face of the man pressed against the wall… 

Then Tony _ pushed back _ and Peter closed his eyes, bucked forward, and thought about nothing else.

Pressing into impossible heat, Peter’s jaw went lax and moaned in surprise and pleasure. Was this what he felt like to Tony? The friction was exquisite, so much rougher than a hand and more intense than a mouth. He dropped the arm that had been pressing Tony into the wall and took the man by his hips. Tony had held him this way a thousand times but now, for the first time, he understood why. Their bodies were pressed flush together and yet, in that moment, he had the mad desire to be _ closer_. 

And he was close to coming, brought there in an instant. When he was beneath Tony it was slow and sweet and inevitable, like the rising tide. But this? This was a tidal wave, come out of nowhere, and it was about to knock him off his feet. 

And then Tony opened his mouth.

“Oh god Peter.” Tony was panting hard, shallow, the breaths closer together as he came closer. He was surprised at how fast it was, how exhilarating it was feeling Peter’s strength and, yes, even his anger. Because if Peter was hate-sex fucking him, he wasn’t leaving him. “Oh god Peter,” he said again. “Fuck.” He moaned the word long and low, enjoying the pleasure. 

And then Peter realized what was happening and pulled out completely. 

Typical Tony move. Almost predictable. Using Peter’s anger to get exactly what he wanted — sex. Standard Stark. 

In a sudden move (that, at least, he had the pleasure of knowing Tony hadn’t anticipated) he used his fistful of shirt to force Tony down onto his knees, pressing the other man’s face to the wall. He didn’t take too long to catch his breath. He couldn’t afford to give Tony that kind of time.

He shook his head hard. He wasn’t going to tear up — if he was going to cry in someone’s arms, there was only one pair of arms he wanted, and that man was now crouched on the floor in a puddle of (formerly) expensive trousers.

“I came here for an apology,” he found himself saying woodenly. “Or at least an explanation. And all I got was a Tony Stark erection. Which I guess I should have expected. 

“But this is how it works, doesn’t it? I tell you what I want, you pretend to listen, and then you get sex.

“Oh well.

“Goodbye, Tony.”

Tony was recovering from Peter’s sudden withdrawal and the loss of his hope that hate-sex equals not leaving. But there was _ no recovering _ from the shock of those _ two words__._ It was an _ unimaginable _loss.

Peter took out his phone. He held it, for a moment, near Tony’s face, giving him a minute to look at it.

Silently, he crushed it in his hand, letting the pieces fall to the floor.

He turned to go.

“Peter, even without access to FRIDAY, anyone can track, as well as crack, anyone else’s phone. Privacy was a remnant of history even when _ I _ was in college. I saw what I saw because I looked, not because it wasn’t out there.” It was a last ditch effort that, even as he said it, he knew wasn’t going to work.

“I know that. But I’ve also realized something. I don’t care.

“You can come and fetch the suit.

“You know where it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can't leave more kudos, so leave a <3 as a 2nd one.
> 
> You've come this far, why not leave a comment? 
> 
> Comments are soooooooooo easy. Just cut and paste your favorite line!
> 
> Witchway's Starker blog on tumblr is [thestarkerisobvious](https://thestarkerisobvious.tumblr.com/).  
Von's Starker blog on tumblr is [starkerstories](https://starkerstories.tumblr.com/).  
Come on by and visit us.


	9. Crashing down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here he was, on the step of Stark Tower, standing yards away from the door to the penthouse, and he was no closer to getting help than he had been from the beginning of the semester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This WIP is completely finished. It's over 29k long, so we're going to be posting two chapters per week. Sundays and Thursdays. So in six weeks, you'll have it all.
> 
> The tags listed are for the entire story, not just this chapter.
> 
> *****  
Tony has his arc reactor back because reasons. Tony survived Endgame because reasons. What reasons you want to give, are the right ones.

Outside, it all came crashing down on him, all of it. Crashing down like a building all around him — what he had said. What he had done. What he had risked, and what he was completely prepared to give up and what he really, really wasn’t.

As he was walking to the edge he felt his knees buckling. He actually stumbled and had to force himself back to his feet again. Finally he made it to the actual edge where webslinging his way home seemed like far too much work — wouldn’t letting his knees buckle again and dropping straight to the cement below be so much easier?

He stood at the edge waiting for it to happen — the moment when he jumped — to swing away, left or right or straight ahead, to swing his way home and sort this all out in the morning (or next week or next month) just like he had planned. But it wasn’t coming. He wasn’t leaving this building. Unless it was straight down. In all his years on earth he had never understood, never grappled with, the sudden need to jump. But the sidewalk was very, very tempting right now.

Not that it mattered. 

In the end, he’d only be scolded for damaging public property. 

The tears were coming, he couldn’t stop them, but he wasn’t going to stand here and sob like a little boy. So he grimaced, and then he growled, and then he howled like a beast in pain. He swore, but in the end there weren’t words for what he was feeling so he just shouted without forming syllables up to the stars. Then he looked down again. 

The sidewalk below looked so very, very inviting.

** _Dammit _ **it shouldn’t be like this — he had made a decision and that should have made it better. His plan was to leave Tony tonight no matter what explanation/excuse/bribe the man offered (it would have to be one of those three, the man didn’t believe in apologies) and then sort out that inevitable explanation/excuse/bribe (but no apology) the next day. Truth is, he knew Tony would call him back, via email or Happy or (very unlikely) in person. He had already accepted the fact that Tony would try to reel him back in. The truth was, he was planning to let himself be reeled. 

Because he _ needed _ Tony Stark, there were no two ways about it. Outside of Bruce Banner (an unreliable nomad at best) there was no one else on the planet he could turn to. He needed advice, he needed it badly, and he needed it _ now. _ And if Tony, his fucking boyfriend, couldn’t give him that advice, then who could? For weeks, it seemed, he had waited to get the man in front of him in person to explain it all… for weeks? It was going on two months. 

And here he was, on the step of Stark Tower, standing yards away from the door to the penthouse, and he was no closer to getting help than he had been from the beginning of the semester.

It was cold up here — but Peter didn’t notice. The Cold had been creeping in for a while now. Had been since these long, Tony-free weeks had started. Had been there before (but in their quick fuck-eat-and-sleep-receive gift-say goodbye-visit they really didn’t have time to _ talk _ about it, The Cold, did they?) 

Standing on the edge, he didn’t notice the cold at all.

The only thing he DID noticed was the drop.

He would survive, even without the suit, he had no doubt about it. Destroy the sidewalk, obviously, but _ he _ would survive. Thirty story drops rattled his cage in the old days, now they were nothing but an embarrassing dent in the concrete. Fifty and sixty story drops were now the standard. He landed on his knees — dammit he was in the mood to bruise _ something, _ and someday he would figure out how.

“Fuck!” he shouted out to the city, but just like the old days, the city didn’t answer. He had tears in his eyes now and he didn’t scrub them away. Why should he? He could stand up on this rooftop and cry. Cry and shout just like he had when…

…when he was a 15 year old boy, hearing things and seeing things that were impossible to see and hear. Doing things that were impossible to do. Falling distances, and slamming into cement, in ways that should have left him feeling more than rattled. He had stood on rooftops and shouted in those days, too. Granted he was shouting G-rated words in those days, but the concept was the same. 

Because he had been _ alone. _ There had been no one else on the planet who could tell him what to do next.

And now, just a handful of years later, nothing had changed. Sure, he was standing just outside the back door of the unofficial leader of the Avengers (his so-called boyfriend) and he was still as alone as he had ever been.

He took a deep breath. The icy wind had a calming, cleansing effect. He was alone, and it hurt, but it was a hurt he could survive. 

He had been alone before.

That didn’t solve the matter of Tony, though. Tony, who might be sporting bruises in the morning. Tony, who could easily be monitoring Peter’s phone for the rest of his life. 

Then the cold, cleansing air left his lungs, his mouth went dry and his heart started hammering again. He had come here expecting to still have a boyfriend by the end of the week. He had come confident that Tony would come up with SOME explanation/excuse/bribe that Peter, eventually, could use in his favor. Instead Tony had offered NO explanation, an excuse that barely even registered as an excuse, and something that COULD be considered a bribe if ‘fuck me against this wall’ counted (which it didn’t, because that was merely the result of Peter’s anger that Tony had somehow turned into sexual banter. What had just now happened against the wall was nothing but an obscene game of chicken.) 

His heart was thundering in his ears, now. It rocked his body back and forth where he was perched on the edge. Giving up the suit/keeping Tony was an option, it was the option he had held up until tonight. Up until this moment.

But giving up the suit/walking away from Tony was also, very much, an option.

He had planned on destroying the phone.

He had planned on telling Tony to take back the suit.

He had not planned on saying “Goodbye, Tony.”

He had NOT planned on saying it — and his heart was pounding because he realized _ that he meant it. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	10. How to be normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter’s step away was met with one of Tony’s own. He wanted to make a point, but he could feel his defensiveness getting in the way. “At pre-snap value, when I built it, the IronSpider runs about 1.4 billion. I’ve paid _a lot_ for ass before, but that’s excessive even by my standards.” That was _not_ how he wanted to say that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This brings us to the end of this part of Tony and Peter's journey. 
> 
> We combined chapters 10 & 11 which were both short. Just remember, a happy ending is promised by the end of the series. 
> 
> Book 2, “Nothing More Than A Machine”, is finished and will begin posting on our regular Sunday/Thursday schedule on Sunday December 29th, 2019. It’s shaping up to be 5 chapters. After that, Book 3 (title TBD) will begin posting. 
> 
> The best way to make sure you don’t miss any future books is to subscribe to the Messages Series. Then, to not miss a chapter, subscribe to the story itself.
> 
> We hope you’ve enjoyed the start of the Messages series and will join us for the rest.
> 
> [Comments feed the authors. :) ]

Tony was afraid to let his look follow Peter out the door. Afraid of what he’d see — nothing. It’s what he expected to see. He looked out into the room instead. It was only a minute before the wheels started to turn on ridiculous plans that would only get him into more trouble.

Peter had an observable route home. En route there were… he asked FRIDAY… twenty-three electronic billboards and signs large enough to draw Peter’s attention. There was more than just by phone to tell Peter that they needed to talk. That flouncing wasn’t the end of the conversation. Even if the flounce was something perfected by millennials, Gen-X used it to get out of Usenet chats long before _ they _used it to get out of Twitter. Tony recognized a good flounce when he saw one.

And god, he hated to give Peter credit in the argument (that they weren’t having but were having in Tony’s head), but the kid was right. He was too used to owning whoever he wanted whenever he wanted them. Any respect he granted someone’s privacy was because he wanted to grant it. Though it did kind of boggle that the so-called internet generation believed in such a thing, when it had ceased to be one as he was growing up. But then, they owned Alexas. The only reason Peter’s (and his friends’ and his aunt’s) cute little ‘music player’ didn’t report surveilled conversations and non-randomized data to Jeff was because Tony prevented the damn things from doing so. (No one ever read the TOS and even if they did make it to the bottom of the page(s), they clicked ‘agree’ anyway because it was cute to say “Alexa play Despacito.”)

He prepared the first messages in his head for FRIDAY to display, when he tracked Peter’s movement through traffic cams, ATM cameras, store surveillance devices. The conversation could be had because FRIDAY would lipread Peter’s responses to the screens. It was a bit heavy handed and a bit Big Brother and a bit HAL-9000, but he was trying to make a point. What he did wasn’t that bad. He was eavesdropping, really. Nothing more than picking up an overheard conversation in a crowded building. 

It was a nice delusion he was building to deflect the guilt he was feeling. And the fear. Mostly the fear. If he had already lost Peter, what was there to lose by piling on more of the fucked up way Tony Stark happened to show people that he loved them?

Peter was already gone. Flounced out the door and out of his life. He should let him go. 

Nonononono. Hearing those two words as Peter left… which he’d been insisting was a flounce because that was _ so much _ less scary than the alternative. The alternative was impossible. The alternative to a cute little slightly-post-adolescent flounce was that _ Peter _ ** _meant _ ** _ those two words._ That wasn’t ‘wormhole’ levels of fear. That was ‘waking up attached to a car battery’ levels of fear.

It was a long time — long enough to stop his hands from shaking, to get his breathing under control, to run through the things he’d learned post-wormhole to push the panic away — before Tony finally stood up from the floor and left the ruins of his pants behind. He was about to let his shirt join the pile when he noticed Peter standing on the suit pad. His back was facing the window and he was looking out over the skyline. He hadn’t left. Peter wasn’t gone. He’d woken up to a car battery and had a chance to build an arc reactor. Peter was still there. 

One of them needed a drink, maybe both? It gave an excuse, a starting off point. He poured two glasses of wine. He almost laughed at himself, thinking of the excuse of social lubrication before trousers. But that was calculated too. His state of undress compared to Peter’s state of dress was a way for the scales to appear balanced in the kid’s favor. 

Would Peter ever understand that these things that he did weren’t even conscious thoughts when done, only after? Spying? He’d been doing that since Berlin. He didn’t _ recognize _ that he’d been doing it until they were together and had to be apart so much that it became a comfort to him. When Peter was _ taken _ from him, he reverted to what he’d always done. When spying was the only connection he had to a person he loved. Only this time it was the person he loved more than he had ever loved _ anyone_.

Peter’s spidersense jangled, warning. ** _Danger _ **coming from behind. He responded sluggishly. He didn’t care enough to jump into a defensive stance, but did manage to take several steps back from the edge into a more defensible position. When nothing attacked him from behind he turned a little, vaguely curious.

It was only Tony.

He headed out and put a glass in Peter’s hand. When he did, he saw the city lights shining on the boy’s wet cheeks. They weren’t back to the point where he could kiss them away, just watch them.

Peter took the wine and drank it, finishing it immediately. He looked at the empty glass as if it confused him. Then he sat the empty glass onto the ground. 

When he stood again, Tony slipped his arm loosely around Peter’s waist. “It’s getting cold. Come to bed.” He paused, realizing what it would seem like he was asking. “We can _ talk _and be warm.”

Peter shook his head no. He stared out at the sky and spoke woodenly, “I’m not keeping the suit. If I’m going to be offering up my ass I need to know — YOU need to know — that it’s not in payment for anything.”

He wanted to make a point, but he could feel his defensiveness getting in the way. “At pre-snap value, when I built it, the IronSpider runs about 1.4 billion. I’ve paid _ a lot _ for ass, but that’s excessive even by my standards.” That was _ not _how he wanted to say that.

“And that’s. Why. I’m giving it. Back.”

“Peter, it’s a ** _GIFT_**_. _ Not payment for anything. And it’s a gift I’ve only ever given to ** _one other person_**_.” _

Tony took a deep breath. He knew he couldn’t make him understand. Peter’s suit was the only _ personal _ thing Tony had to give. He could give jewelry, roses, fancy cars, _ things _ until the cows came home. Anyone with enough money could. What could only Tony give that no one else in the entire world could? A physical manifestation of his… genius, skill, mind, creativity… whatever he called it, it was everything that made him _ him. _ And it wasn’t something that Peter wanted. 

He filed that away where all the _ other things _ went. 

He had one task. His own fuckedupness would have to wait. _ Fucking forever, if I have anything to say about it. _ Keeping Peter from leaving him was all that mattered. He regrouped. He conceded. He’d take back Peter’s suits. Gifts returned. But there was something he had to make Peter understand. Because no matter what happened, even if Peter left him, he would never stop caring about him. Hard to do if he’s lying dead on a street in Queens.

“Granted, it’s a little overpowered for your ‘neighborhood Spider-Man’ thing. It’s not like I go everywhere in the Hulkbuster. But you can _ not _be meaning to go back to no more protection than underoos. You’re doing more than just finding lost bicycles and giving little old ladies directions now. Spider-Man has a reputation and that means the other guy ups the ante whether you want it upped or not. 

“Iron Man’s first couple years were easy. Drop down, impress the bad guys, take them out because they had no idea what they were dealing with. It doesn’t stay that way. Now, from practically the first time I engage an enemy in a new suit, its capabilities are analyzed and put on the dark web. It’s one of the reasons why, before the nanotech gave me specialization on the fly, I had so many different suits. They weren’t a distraction, they were a necessity.

“You don’t want me involved, _ fine,” _ he said with more bite than he’d intended to let show. He dialed it back. _ Mission One Tony. Forget everything else. _“Let yourself in downstairs and design it on your own. Build it on your own. The fabrication machine I’ve used to build all your non-nanotech suits is there. It can build whatever you want. At least put some ballistic shielding in what you create. I put that in all the Avengers’ suits. Even Wanda’s and she deflects bullets with her mind. I know you can survive a building dropping on you, riding a crashing plane down to the ground, getting hit by a train. I’d rather not find out if you can survive getting shot.

“And having an AI just makes sense. Karen can transfer to whatever new suit you build. You haven’t been on Baby Monitor protocol for years. If you don’t want her recording, you don’t want her to let me in, tell her. She and FRIDAY may gossip… that’s beyond my control…”

“I talk to you inside the suit _ all the time. _ I leave messages on your voicemail and I leave messages with Happy. I have to force myself to stop bugging you. I’m a ** _pest_**. I ** _pester _ **you.”

“You never pestered me, Peter.”

But Peter kept talking — this was the longest conversation they’d had in ages and Peter was beginning to understand how little Tony understood — about anything.

“Sometimes I call you on the phone with pretend problems just to remind you that I exist,” Peter said. He strained to speak loud enough to be heard, hating how small his voice sounded, unable to do anything about it. “I was sure you forgot all about me while you were gone — and you were watching me the entire time? _ You were invading my privacy _ and _ ignoring me _ at the same time? You’re spying on me — and I’m angry about it — and I’m still _ horrifically _ ** _lonely_**_.” _

“I never thought _ you’d _ be lonely, Peter. I was never ignoring you. I could never forget that you exist. It’s spying, yes. A violation of privacy — which has been a myth for a very long time, whatever — okay, I guess.” _ God Tony would you _ please _ shut the fuck up and let him know! _“What it really was, was a way that I could feel close to you when I wasn’t.” 

“A myth for a very long… are you ** _listening _ ** _ to yourself!? _ This isn’t about modern surveillance culture this is about the part where I talk to you constantly and the only thing that you responded to was the part _ you weren’t supposed to see. _”

“That’s just the only part of it _ you see. _ You don’t see every time I smile when I watch you with your friends. Or how connected I feel to you when I see the things I’m not supposed to. Or how I _ want _ to protect you and I _ don’t do it _ because it’s beautiful to watch you make your mistakes and grow. Or how much I am entirely fascinated by your life. Or… any of it. You don’t see that.

“I have access… a lot of access… but never _enough _for someone who’s… obsessed. Someone who needs the **_everything_** of you and who has practically the **_nothing _**of you. I know it’s because I’m not here. But you only saw the part that…” 

Tony winced. He couldn’t say it. Not yet. Peter could not-understand any of the rest of it. He could live with that. But he needed Peter to understand _ this. _

“There have been a lot of times when I’ve _ not _ responded to things I _ wasn’t _ supposed to see. I responded to this thing _ very much _ ** _in particular_**_…” _

He stopped himself. There was a long blink. He knew he needed to say it. Peter wasn’t going to understand otherwise. _ Not yet. Too close. Divert. _

He lightly ran the back of his knuckles along Peter’s arm. “I’ve been gone a lot more than I want to be. I hate being away from you. I hate that I’m not _ allowed _to give you what I’m expected to give other people. I hate that my life hasn’t been my own for far longer than you’ve been alive. But this is just one shit part, out of many shit parts — and even if I could get rid of this particular shit part, there are so many more to take its place — to being Tony Stark’s boyfriend.”

A thought hit him and it gave him a way to extract himself from his pathetic tale of woe. He suggested, “I can install the same spyware on your phone. Your new one I mean. I can give FRIDAY non-overridable controls for you to observe me in _ exactly _ the same ways that I observed you. Believe me, my life is much more boring than yours. But I can let you see everything I saw.” 

“I don’t want to spy on you you moron! I want you to tell me what you did today and then I’ll tell you what I did and then we have a conversation like normal people.”

“That’s what I want!” Tony said, throwing his arms wide. “I want to be here when you get back from school. I want to wake up to you in the morning and not have us both be rushing for the door. I want to have the time for a conversation like normal people. I’m not normal people. I tried to be! But _ they _ don’t let _ me _ be normal people! Again! Ever!… _ Whatever.” _ He rolled his eyes at the last word, as he stood there naked from the waist down utterly oblivious to his state. 

He crossed his left arm low across his body and held his wrist tightly with his other hand. He tried to calm his voice. “I had a few years of forcing myself to be fake-normal with someone I’d stopped wanting to be any kind of _ anything _ with ages ago. It fucking sucked. I cut away the thing…” _ oh no add an s to that quick _ “…the thing**_s_ ** that made me _ me _ because being _ me _ isn’t normal. Now I have someone that I ** _permanently _ **want to be with…”

He could hear himself not making sense. None of this made sense and he was making it worse. He could _ tell _ he was making it worse and he had no idea how to stop making it worse.

“Fuck! I don’t know _ how _ to be normal. When was I supposed to learn how to do _ that_, huh? Without spying on the people I love, I would never even know their fucking _ schedule_. Do you think I was _ told _ when my dad was taking my mom out of town while I was at school? Do you think I was _ told _ when my friends were transferred because they were distracting me? Or how to get in touch with them once they were gone? Even the person who took care of me the most had _ Things To Do _ that were much more important. And they were. I’m not denying that. 

“But to keep up, I learned how to find things out. The code was sitting there in Howard’s workshop. I had the parts to build the circuit boards. I wrote backdoors to piggyback onto his part of DARPANet, the fledgling internet then. Privacy has never existed for me because if it did…” 

_ Is this what normal people did? Stand on a roof and open a vein and bleed out in front of the person that you can’t lose? To hand yourself over to them? And hope that they don’t yank your heart right out of your chest? Because honestly, if Peter meant those two words? What is the point of having one? _

“I learned to spy as much as Nat or Clint did. But not for their reasons. I did it just to _ look at _ what the people I love do. **And this is SO not what I want to be talking about!** I’m sick of talking about it and sicker of thinking about it.” Tony took a heavy breath to calm himself. Nothing good ever came of opening the box where the _ other things _ lived. But there was something to be said for doing it on a rooftop. At least there was air. 

“Peter, I want absolutely nothing more out of life than to be with you. I already spend every waking minute of the day thinking about you, watching you, being with you the only way I thought I could. But that’s not what I want. I don’t want your digital ghost, I want _ you_. I knew I was lonely,” _ so many better adjectives for me — weak, pathetic, wrong, hopeless, flawed, _“but I never knew you were.” 

“No, you don’t really think about what’s going on _ in _ your trophy case, do you? Until one day one of your trophies starts thinking out loud about breaking out. But even you know — surely you noticed — that I didn’t break out. I don’t know why I didn’t try to break out — I don’t know why I’m not. Because I’m not. 

“But I don’t feel good about it.” 

_ “_**_Surely I noticed_**_? _ No, I _ didn’t _ notice. Because ever since I got that ‘text not sent’ notification I’ve been waiting for you to drop the other shoe. I couldn’t risk letting it fall. I got desperate that I fucked up and responded to what I shouldn’t have. Not because you’re a trophy. Or because I own you. Or just because I _ can _ because the information’s out there. I responded to texts I shouldn’t have because the thought of losing you… _ I have never been so terrified in my entire life.” _

Peter shook his head. Maybe this was information he should be processing, and maybe he would. Tomorrow. All he knew, now, was that he wasn’t leaving this man. It didn’t make sense when he was standing on the ledge, and it didn’t make sense now.

Maybe it would make sense tomorrow.

He turned toward Tony for the first time, although he still did not look him in the face. Silently he took the wineglass out of his hand and sat it next to his own. Then he stepped up and, putting his head on the man’s shoulder, pressed his forehead into Tony’s neck, his chest a half-inch away from Tony’s body.

But when Tony lifted his arms to encircle him, Peter’s hands shot out and seized him by both wrists, holding them in place with an unbreakable grip.

Peter breathed in his scent, felt his warmth. For a long time they stood in silence on the rooftop, Peter embracing his lover on his own terms. He didn’t speak. It was comfortable to know he didn’t have to until he was ready.

“I’m not leaving you,” he said finally, quietly. “But I’m not spending the night. I have some things to think about.”

He backed up, let go of Tony’s hands, and walked toward the ledge, taking the mask out of his back pocket and slipping it on.

“Email me your schedule and I’ll come by tomorrow when you’re free.”

“This is where I’ll be. I told Pepper that I’m not going anywhere for a month.”

“Whatever, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he replied woodenly, and walked off the edge.

Tony watched as Peter fell. Walked straight off into the air, let himself fall a few floors before firing his webshooters to catch on a window. Instead of swinging forward from there, using the force of his fall to propel him into the same sort of arcing flight he made throughout the city, Peter continued to fall. Straight down. Safely attached to the window of the Tower, but _ straight _ down. 

Unlike his Iron Man suit, there was nothing in Peter’s webs, or even in the IronSpider had he been wearing it instead of underoos, to dampen the g-force that the fall would cause to the boy’s body when he finally broke his drop. It was a fall, which Tony watched with more than a little bit of fear, that didn’t end until Peter was maybe two or three stories from the ground.

And then the boy swung. 

The force should’ve torn Peter’s arm off. Even if it didn’t, because he was the unbreakable boy, it should’ve hurt like hell and falter his response. Instead he used the momentum of an over ninety story drop to push himself into an incredible array of stunts, things he had never seen Peter attempt much less nail with expert precision. He flipped four times over his head in the middle of the air, close to the ground, so dangerously close to the ground. And it looked effortless. 

He performed for the ant-like audience he could see gathered at the base of Stark Tower. Tony couldn’t hear the reaction from so far below, but he knew it must’ve been wild. The quadruple somersault was only the beginning of Peter’s performance. Tony knew Peter’s repertoire of stunts very well. Not just from direct observation but from his near-constant monitoring of Karen. (The Baby Monitor might’ve been off, but the obsessed boyfriend monitor was still _ quite _functional.) 

Peter might be dressed in his underoos suit, but he was no longer in any way the fifteen year old boy he brought to Berlin. He wasn’t even the sweet innocent virgin he took to bed almost a year ago. Tony had proclaimed Peter an Avenger when he stowed away on the Q ship, but now he was clearly the equal of any of them. Equal? He was clearly _ better _than many of them. 

While his heart filled with pride, it also filled with fear. Peter wasn’t a young boy with a crush. He wasn’t even a _ young _ man anymore. He was a man. Grown. Forming his own life. No longer needing anyone to guide him or help him or support him or _ anything _ him. He was strong, he was confident, he had come into his powers, and he was sexually experienced now as well.

There was nothing he needed Tony for anymore. Nothing he _ wanted _Tony for anymore. Tonight Peter realized it. He said ‘goodbye Tony’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can't leave more kudos, so leave a <3 as a 2nd one.
> 
> You've come this far, why not leave a comment? 
> 
> Comments are soooooooooo easy. Just cut and paste your favorite line!
> 
> Witchway's Starker blog on tumblr is [thestarkerisobvious](https://thestarkerisobvious.tumblr.com/).  
Von's Starker blog on tumblr is [starkerstories](https://starkerstories.tumblr.com/).  
Come on by and visit us.

**Author's Note:**

> You've come this far, why not leave a comment?
> 
> Comments are easy to write - just cut and paste your favorite line!
> 
> Witchway's Starker blog on tumblr is [thestarkerisobvious](https://thestarkerisobvious.tumblr.com/).  
Von's Starker blog on tumblr is [starker-stories](https://starker-stories.tumblr.com/).  
Come on by and visit us.


End file.
